Kiss It Better
by Onyxx-09
Summary: He sits in his cell, and he lays on his bed, covers his head & closes his eyes. He remembers the smoking gun & how the coward, he ran. And how in his arms he held the bleeding Love of his life. She had cried, "kiss it all better, I'm not ready to go...It's not your fault, love, you didn't know..." MoS 2013: Man of Steel universe, slightly AU, Lois/Clark/OC. M for obvious reasons :P
1. Chapter 1

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

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**Kiss It Better**

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_*music intro*  
"He sits in his cell,  
And he lays on his bed,  
Covers his head, and closes his eyes..."_

The tiny room only held a private shower, a mirror, a toilet, and the bed he was currently occupying.

He hadn't slept at all that night or during the day earlier. He had just sat on the edge of the hard bed, his head bowed over his knees, his large hands pressed together as if to pray, though there was no one to pray to anymore. His head felt like a huge and heavy brick as he huffed out a mouthful of hot air.

It was uncomfortably hot, the room itself looked putrid and unsanitary; spiderwebs were kept in one corner. It looked as if it had been unkept for years.

It was his punishment.

He could hear the noises and rampage happening just outside the multiple thick brick walls, and knew that none of the guards inside the building would know until too late.

But none of the sounds outside compared to the inner turmoil raging inside him.

_'It is already too late.'_

Zod. It had to be him and his crew, that had to be the only explanation of hearing the faint sounds of choking and gravel being broken. Ever since that general had made contact with Earth, he has been doing nothing but cause destruction and disaster.

He clenched his hands together even tighter, the knuckles turning close to paper-white. He could hear the authorities talking down the hall. Talking about him. About his judgement date, his fate. He could suspect what it would be. No, what it _should_ be but wouldn't work. Just the thought of what they will be determined to inflict on him made him uneasy.

Should he continue to put up this façade, even now? Should he finally pull down his veil and reveal to all who he really was? He knew either way he was a dead man, if the law didn't get to him first, General Zod will.

Did he feel ashamed for his actions? Remorseful? Normally, he would have, but not so much anymore. It seemed as if that part of him had escaped from him when she had done the same.

He closed his eyes as the flashback of that night played back behind his eyes. That night that changed his life forever.

_"You are the embodiment of the belief that a child can aspire to become something greater... You can give the people of Earth hope—that is what this symbol is for... You will give them an ideal to strive towards. They will stumble, they will fall, but in time they will join you when the sun comes."_

The words of his father echoed in his head like a curse.

He had let his father down. He had had the weight of two different worlds—two entire planets—on his shoulders, and he left them to become exterminated like cockroaches.

He had stumbled, like his father had said, and he is the one who really fell. And quite drastically. Dramatically. Unnecessarily, as his father would have said. He knew he would be seen as a lie from now own. Billions of people around the world will now see him as the thing he had wanted to escape since his early youth, the title he had finally _just_ been able to erase: from being seen as an oddity or some kind of mutant. A threat.

Freak.

Evil.

He rubbed his face tiredly and then raised his hands to rest his fingertips under his chin, his hands still together as if in prayer as he stared up at the white prison ceiling. The fluorescent lights flickered and a loud crunch sounded outside, closer this time. He promptly pushed his glasses back up his nose, fighting the burning in his eyes from the start of tears.

Well, he isn't normal, so what else is there of him, he thought to himself. _'You live up to whatever is true about you; ...they were right all along...'_

A sudden loud crashing sounded too close, making him jump—he realized they were now inside. He didn't need to look over to the guard guarding his cell, who had been staring at him intently, to know he was now running around like a loose hen. ...A hen like the ones back on the farm. With his other father, the one that raised him, before he too died. With his other mother, Martha.

His mom...

Another person close to him, important to him that he has failed and led to die. A heavy knot formed in his body and the lump in his throat returned.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, coming closer and closer. It would be only a matter of seconds until his Grim Reaper walked in, whichever it may be.

When had he ever talked so negatively?! This was not like him at all. ...But then again, the old him had died that night, seemingly a long time ago.

And a new Clark Kent had been born.

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**I've only seen Man of Steel once, and plan on seeing it again sometime soon, so please tell me if I get any of the Superman details wrong.**

**This is of course not directly going along the MoS storyline. I guess a sort of "what if" if Zod did not exactly die just yet...**

**review review _please_!**


	2. Chapter 2

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

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**Kiss It Better**

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_...He sees a smoking gun,_  
_And the coward, he ran.  
And in his arms is the bleeding_  
_Love of his life._

_And she cried,_  
_"Kiss it all better,_  
_I'm not ready to go._  
_It's not your fault, love,_  
_You didn't know._  
_You didn't know..."  
*music insert*_

The sound was deafening.

The small hole in her upper abdomen surprised him. It looked so foreign against her cream colored blouse, or perhaps it was due to the rain, which was now pouring heavier on them, and since neither had an umbrella then.

He blames himself for what happened to her that night.

The weather had been really moody lately—it's been raining all day for one, and then the next day would be clear skies.

That's the excuse Lois gave for her attitude lately—she had been quite sensitive and temperamental, and the past couple months were starting to get to Clark. No, the passed weeks. Heck, in the last two days; he was quite pissed. He was tired of going to work everyday and having to see her slowly breaking down, becoming an emotional mess.

The truth was, she just hadn't been at her best. No, that's not right; Lois has been scared out of her mind. She was never one for believing in fortunes or anything that didn't have solid evidence to its truth. But for the first time in her life since she was told that Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy didn't exist, she found herself leaning back into that sort of belief. That this overshadowing, premonition-like feeling actually meant something; that that reoccurring dream was true.

She had been so indulged in her thoughts of the dream filled with hazy images of blood and pain she had been scolded by her boss, Perry White, multiple times and had missed several deadlines. She hadn't acknowledged anyone around her, and hadn't regarded herself. She'd been so worried, she would have forgotten to get eat if it wasn't for Clark.

She wasn't like herself.

And it had been Clark who had made it his priority that by the following weekend he was going to make her happy again, whatever the costs. It was his idea to go out that night to the fancy restaurant, the attractions to see and planned the activities they were going to do afterwards.

It was his idea to take the short backway behind the small eatery next door as a shortcut.

This is the one thing he wants to take back and regrets; he wishes with everything in him.

He believes her fate was his fault.

All he can recall was that there was a tussle. They had just rounded the corner from exiting the end of the alley when his ears picked up echoing footsteps. They were being followed, but he didn't worry too much. Nothing could hurt him; for whatever happened he could take care of it—he was Superman for goodness sake! He's saved the entire planet from murderous aliens who wanted to enslave humankind. He's the Man of Steel! Lois would be safe with him, he thought. But what he didn't see was that their stalker already had a gun pulled or that he would pull the trigger, when Clark turned around, out of fear.

The _'BANG!'_ seemed to bounce off the narrow walls; it was too loud for his ears. He didn't feel anything which was unusual, not even a little plink of the bullet ricocheting. He noticed Lois had been standing tall by his side one moment, and in the next she suddenly slumped to the ground.

_'It was just shock, she's in shock...!'_ he had told himself.

But as he knelt down beside her, Lois's face was twisted in pain. And in that split second was the worst, gut-wrenching feeling he's experienced only once before—when his adoptive father, Jonathan, was swept away in a tornado.

There was a lone hole near the middle of her chest, the red around it quickly spreading across her clean shirt.

And just like before, he watched as another life was taken from him. Helplessly.

Lois stared up at him. Her breath came out in ragged puffs. Clark pulled her to his chest; the act was so instinctive, he didn't register he had done it.

The stalker stood in frozen horror. He had not expected Clark to turn around—he had planned to mug them from behind. He didn't mean to kill her; at most, he meant to aim at Clark, not the lady.

He watched Clark drop to his knees; the water splashing around him and soak into his slacks. He watched the man pull her against his broad chest protectively. The criminal's fingers shook crazily until the gun slipped from his hands.

He ran.

And he didn't turn to see if Clark had acknowledged his retreat.

Clark didn't care.

Her bloodloss was increasing rapidly and knew he couldn't burn her wound close this time, like back in the Arctic. The more the rain washed away, it seemed as if three times more of her blood coated his hands and shirt.

She suddenly looked very tired. She cast him a gentle smile.

His bottom lip trembled.

_(End Flashback)  
_***.§~§.***

It's been several months since the news of one of the Daily Planet's best writers was killed. And for what, the authorities and autopsy reports still haven't come out yet.

Clark rode his bicycle thru the traffic, but he didn't see the cars—he didn't see anything. If he was hit, he didn't care. He'd just need to play dead for a little bit and then he'd get right back up.

He didn't need to wait to hear the CSI reports. He already knew who'd done the killing.

He hasn't touched his Kryptonian suit since.

He chained his "casual" transportation where he did everyday, and walked to the elevator. He pressed the button to the reporter/writer's floor, pushing his glasses up his face—he doesn't take them off in public anymore, after having a close encounter of his other identity almost discovered.

When the elevator doors opened, the floor was busy with its usual hustle-and-bustle. But again, Clark Kent didn't acknowledge it. It felt as if he was walking down a long dark hall, in his eyes everything was in slow motion and lit in candlelight, until he plopped down in his seat—the walk became such a routine, his body now does it on automatic. A stack of papers two desks away fell, covering the floor and fluttering into the air. The sun shone in thru the wide windows covering the left side of the large room. His entire self seemed to have just shut off.

He was dead inside.

And she knew it. For a while now, actually; she could tell something was wrong with him.

She watched him rub his face and then dig his knuckles in his eye sockets tiredly from over her desk's cubicle-like walls. And once again she wanted to run over and put her arms around him, to kiss him and tell him that everything was going to be alright, even if she didn't know what the problem is.

And it hasn't been the first time she's had feelings of sorts about Clark Kent. To want to talk, hug...or touch—some thoughts were not as innocent as others.

But he and Lois had always seemed to be close, or just together. It was obvious he was taken—either they were a couple, or he liked her, or vise versa. But she was just a friendly person in general, at least that's what she's been repeated to so many times.

Clark had been reading several notes about some rec building being built for a neighborhood he was to write about—if by "reading," you mean his eyes skimming the words but not comprehending any—when someone tapped his desk.

She held a coffee mug in both hands.

If he took the time to notice, he'd smell the fresh coffee, also see her fingers dancing nervously, and hear her heartbeat stop momentarily when he looked at her almost surprised.

It didn't stop her from interacting whenever she could.

"Oh. Hey Eve." He turned back at his notes.

She extended the cup to him almost forcefully. He eyeballed it, and then her face blankly.

"Thought you might want this. Looks like you could use it."

He hesitated before taking the large mug from her and taking a long gulp without looking back at her. "Thanks."

"Um..." It was still steaming hot!

She twiddled with the end of her shirt, which was tied into a knot in the front.

"Are you sure you're okay...?"

Her questioned was met by silence. She wanted to huff, but knew it was useless.

She stuttered a little. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about that weekend last..."

Again, silence.

"What about it," Clark's voice was flat. He sipped the coffee again.

"Well...I—-"

He held up a hand. "Look Eve," he cut her off, "don't think about it too much."

Just two weeks ago was an incident at a night bar that involved several drinks, Clark finally meeting his alcohol tolerance level, and a wayward kiss in the back of a taxi.

And he was right for several reasons to not ponder the incident. One, because he needed to convince her that it was a clumsy mistake. Two, so she wouldn't wonder why he had been there all day taking drink after drink until he was finally tipsy (why it took him so long to get drunk, and probably leading to discover his alter ego). And three, to make her think it was just a kiss.

Clark glanced at her again.

She was in a crop-top midriff collared shirt, thigh-high dress shorts, and heels today. Her golden jewelry complemented her tan-colored skin perfectly. And not for the first time, his head was filled with thoughts and wants that were so unlike him, it almost scared him. He had only experienced it a few times growing up. He wanted to believe it was wrong—she wasn't Lois. He and Lois had never performed on such acts, for whatever reason—whether by her, him, or their jobs. Maybe they would have, maybe they would have gotten married, maybe it would have fallen apart. Regardless, these feelings have never been this strong.

It was almost...desires.

The look she gave was a mix of sadness, disappointment, and something else. Clark sighed, rising to his feet.

Increasingly, he's noticed he was becoming more and more comfortable around Eve, besides their rocky beginning. It wasn't as fast as with Lois, nor did it feel exactly the same.

_'But it was something...'_ the thought passed across his mind.

As he stood, Eve couldn't suppress a blush, feeling her face instantly become hot. Even in heels, she barely came up to the top of his shoulders. And not to mention how close he was to her. She knew he had a great face behind his somewhat dorky-but-cute glasses, and could tell that his shirts hid muscles too...

Clark placed a rough hand on the back of her hair, pushing her head forward. He kissed her hairline.

"Don't worry so much," he mumbled. The thoughts that seemed so out of character for him never left. His mouth suddenly became dry.

He had no idea how that kiss made her jump inside.

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**The song "I'm Like a Lawyer" by Fall Out Boy kept playing in my head when writing the present/second part for some reason...**

**Constructive criticism is welcome. I need reviews to tell me how I'm doing. Is this good? Is it bad? Let me know.**

**I'm going to try and upload every weekend because college starts soon. But please don't get upset if I skip a weekend or two.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so very much, ALl of you! I cannot explain how much those reviews made me feel so much better about this story, and motivated me to write more. I'm smiling so much! If I could, I'd give out a shitload of cookies just for these. They mean so much :D**

**I'm just sorry I wasn't able to update for two freakin' long weeks. Finals are tomorrow and I think my grades are gonna suffer because of this :P But just a warning: this is longer than the last and this first part may be a bit sad :\**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel and its characters, settings and such belong to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing but Eve **]**

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**Kiss It Better**

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_Her hands are so cold,_  
_And he kisses her face_ a_nd says, "Everything will be alright..."_  
_He noticed the gun,_ a_nd his rage grew inside._  
_He said, "I'll avenge my lover tonight."_

"..Clark..."

He looked up, startled at hearing her speak. By her ragged breathing, he knew speech was becoming difficult for her. "Yes," he wanted to answer her, but no sound would come from his mouth. His lips quivered too much; the large lump in his throat would have prevented any words. He tried to smile a little to reassure her but it came out more as a grimace.

"Clark—-" she grimaced, "kiss it better, please." Lois ignored his look of shock to the excuse for a kiss she'd used on multiple occasions. "I'm not ready to go..." Lois gasped a shaky breath. "Kiss it all better...?"

Thunder clapped overhead. The rain was now pouring over them mercilessly, soaking them to the bone. If either of them were crying, Clark couldn't tell.

"Lois..." His voice cracked. Clark began to shake his head and say "I can't" when she spoke again.

"It's okay. You didn't know; no one did. It isn't your fault, love." It wasn't his fault that he couldn't save her this time. The next smile she gave cut him to the core. He knew the only thing that kept him from crying was that he didn't want that to be her last thought of him.

A flash of lightening illuminated the night. The scene forever snapshot into Clark's memory: her bright red hair appearing aflame in the rainy night; her green eyes, always wide with curiosity, where shockingly dull; he closed his eyes feeling her hands icy against his cheek as he relished this moment.

Clark placed a hand over hers and leaned into her touch. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew he would be alone without her. He had no one else left—it had been just Lois and his adoptive mother, Marsha, for so long. He had been so relieved when he had found Lois. It felt as if he had finally completed that mysterious puzzle of himself after many years. Without her, he had nothing to fight or live for. Without her, there would be nothing. Without her, he _was_ nothing, but a man in a silly red cape.

There had been a reason he put it on in the first place. He could have easily said "no" to the hologram of his father. He could have easily resisted the army when they "arrested" him. He could have turned his back and ignored the "responsibility" that was suddenly placed on his shoulders. But he didn't.

Lois had been the reason for all of it, from the beginning.

He will never know it, but her vision was already darkening and swimming badly. But the pain was gone, for which she was glad.

Clark leaned in, kissing her forehead, hoping she couldn't feel his entire body shaking and keep hers from freezing. He rested his forehead on hers. "Everything will be alright."

It was a lie. And they both knew it. That is why their final kiss (on the lips) felt so bittersweet.

"Promise?"

This time, tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision. Clark didn't try to hide the tear that strayed down his face. His voice cracked again, revealing his lie. "I promise."

Lois smiled once more—the last she will ever—and closed her eyes, falling into the soft blackness that humans have feared for centuries.

Time passed with them just like that: Clark on his knees in the pouring rain, hunched over the body of Lois Lane in his lap, her empty head resting against his chest, their clothes stained from the red of her blood. For how much time passed, Clark Kent can never calculate. He just knew one moment he was letting his emotions pour free, yelling at the empty night. And in the next, sirens were approaching in the distance.

He gripped her body tighter, regardless of when the paramedics instructed him to let go so they could lay her on the gurney. To carry her away from him forevermore. Clark wasn't thinking clearly, a part of his mind told him, and that he would put up a tug-of-war over her if he had to—which he did with a doctor momentarily before pushing him a little too hard, sending the man skidding across the concrete. He forgot that humans were like porcelain for his kind, and froze hearing cracking sounds in his arms. Clark reluctantly loosened his grip around Lois' blueing body.

He buried his nose in her hair, whispering pitiful apologizes and trying to pick up the last hint of her shampoo. He wanted—_needed_ one last reminder that she was real, that none of it was imagined.

Lightening crackled once more. The scene: a heartbroken man holding the dead body of the love of his life in his arms. The culprit already more than three blocks away long ago. Two paramedics—one, now with a large bruise on his head—trying to convince the broken man to allow them to take the woman's body to the nearest hospital in useless hopes to save her. And the shine of metal catching the said man's eye.

It was the thief's pistol.

The woman in blue uniform hesitated, seeing Clark's bloodshot eyes, before ordering him to hand over the lifeless body once more. His gaze did not stray from the weapon, and this time he didn't refuse the doctors. The expression on Clark's face almost scaring her, and she paused before giving Clark the last glimpse of Lois he will ever have.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream to the heavens in anger and mercy. He know he should be, but he couldn't anymore. He was all cried-out, he felt, and emotionally numb. It was as if that part of him no longer existed—he no longer felt extreme emotion.

Clark watched the two paramedics with a blank stare as they strapped Lois' body to the gurney, the third staggering to the truck, and not as much as a single tear trailed from his eyes. He wouldn't pick up how _something_ snapped in his head until days later, but that wasn't important right now. His main focus was the handgun he stared down at, as he picked himself up and stood over it.

It lay just at his feet, within reach. He could easily pick it up, cock it back, and... And what? His mind now drew up blanks. Words no longer comprehended reasoning, just the satisfying feeling of all of this being over...

Rage built up inside, replacing the grief almost as instantly and completely. It wasn't temperamental; this was blood-raw anger that he could feel coursing thru his veins. The final thought that ran across his mind was: _'I will avenge my lover. Tonight.'_

If that woman were to see his eyes now, she would have probably yelled, "diablo!" Clark Kent's eyes were no longer bloodshot, but a bright crimson red.

_(End Flashback)  
_**_*.§~§.*_**

**(A Few Months from Last chapter )**  
Eve Lancaster tapped the papers on the table to even the stack. She had just finished filing the large stack of paperwork from the last three days and was more than ready to go home. It surprised her a little of how much paperwork there was.

_'But then again, this _**_is_**_ a _**_newspaper_**_ press,_' she thought to herself.

She turned, hearing the sudden sound of laughter drift to her ears on the otherwise quiet top floor. There was normally no other sounds besides papers and keyboards typing; there were no such human sounds of joy—there hasn't been for a long while. Eve looked towards the source of the sound and was shocked to see three employees standing near the water tank, to her left, in a hearty conversation. She was even more surprised to see Clark look her way that same moment, standing amongst them, locking eyes. She spun around, feeling her face grow hot. It still surprised her how he could do nothing at all and yet have her feeling like a little school girl with her first crush.

Work at The Daily Planet had been frantic and rushed. Everyone had been scrabbling to get everything in order from since their star reporter, as Perry White liked to call her, died. Lois Lane had been the main source for articles, and since her sudden death, it was as if there was a giant hole in The Planet's processes, publications, and everyone's schedules.

Lois hadn't been Eve's most favorite person—for obvious reasons, but—mainly for her bossy and egoistical queen-like attitude. She had witnessed her unjust feats of making Perry let her get her way, and the way she treated the others, especially if she felt they weren't meeting her requirements or their deadlines. But Eve couldn't help but be a little upset still that her work weighed so much on the remaining writers.

Eve turned away, bumping her hip on the corner of a desk in her hastily attempt to walk away cooly. She cursed to herself, already feeling a bruise forming. She didn't turn around. If she did, she would have seen that Clark's narrowed eyes followed her still.

Eve slumped in her chair when she returned to her desk, relieved to be away and from almost ruining her life in embarrassment.

"So~," Alyse Mulburry looked over her shoulder from her computer not-too-far away. She had that look in her eye that hinted there was probably going to be a sly comment slip from her lips in the next millisecond.

"Not now 'Lyse," Eve huffed. She blew stray dark brown strands from her face.

"Geez," Alyse frowned. "All I was gonna do was as if you knew of that new snowcone place that opened a few blocks away."

Eve eyed her. "No. Why?" Because the duo had known each other since middle school and were the supposedly closest of best friends working at The Planet, the two still knew how to push each others' buttons and exactly when. And yet, Eve still hadn't mentioned her infatuation with their country-boy employee, no matter how much Eve tried convincing herself she wasn't interested.

A toothy smile spread across Alyse's face. "You are _so_ missing out, my friend. It's absolutely _to die_ for!"

Snowcones were Alyse's favorite snack, dessert, or whatever. No matter the weather, she'd eat it. Eve had begun to think snowcones have crossed a little over to an obsession, especially after seeing Alyse eating one in a dead snowy winter.

Eve sat up and tucked a few wavy/curly hair behind her ear. She'd decided to go natural after (finally; Alyse's word) getting tired of waking up early each day to straighten her hair.

"Did you know snowcones could come in flavors like birthday cake?!" Alyse's eyes widened a little in excitement.

"Nooo...?" Eve could tell that her friend's verbal admiring will go on for a while. Alyse loved to talk, and becoming a reporter had been a good choice, she has been putting it to good use. She could produce hour-long conversations on anything—she once took a 15-minute explanation on how silk and cotton jackets are better than jean and leather.

Eve didn't mind though, it's not like she had anything in particular to do. She was the office-girl, so she didn't have the worry of meeting deadlines for news articles. Her job included printing out articles, sending papers, serving coffee or tea, and doing everyone else's biding that no one else wanted. This was been a pastime job to help her while she took classes.

She worried that her job was a turnoff and made her appear to be the annoying and awkward girl who took up office space and was why Clark hadn't even looked her way since. Their eyes catching had been a total surprise.

Eve rested a cheek on her right fist. She wanted to tell Alice that she had other things to worry about (which she didn't and was just too worried to think), but thought against it. She eventually started daydreaming. Her brain began playing out many negative scenarios she feared Mister Kent might be plotting to do to her. She was almost convinced that she had ticked him off to no return and he would come up to her desk any day now and flatten her like a bug.

Kent. Mister Kent. Smallville, as she'd heard Lois call him before. Clark Kent: The tall, slightly clumsy, yet physically built reporter with a strong jawline and captivating blue eyes, who once had been very quiet and stuttered a little when he got nervous, but was devilishly handsome. All thoughts, some bad, some good, some naughty (to her embarrassment) played out in her imagination.

Eve hadn't noticed how much time had passed of her daydreaming until Alyse reminded her that she needed to refill the caffeine-aholics' tanks soon or she was going to have many cranky writers coming after her.

Reluctantly, she pushed her chair away from her desk, sighed, and marched to the kitchen. Her fingers twiddled nervously waiting for the water to boil. She wondered if she would be able to leave early before Clark today, if Perry would yell at her for it or allow it.

She wanted to die inside.

Sucking in a heavy breath, Eve steadied the cups on a tray to carry out. She paused at the door before walking out; she decided to put up a front the rest of the day—she wouldn't make any eye contact with anyone to avoid any further embarrassment. She took a breath before walking out and did her job. She was back in her seat sooner than expected, and much to her relief.

_'I might make it thru the day,'_ she thought a little hopeful, taking a cheap magazine from Alyse's desk to make time fly faster. Ten minutes into it, someone walked up to her desk and cleared their throat to make their presence known.

Whenever someone came to Eve, it was either to print papers, scan, filing paperwork and the like. So as she hastily slid the magazine under her desk, sat up and twined her fingers together in an effort to appear professional-like, she can only imagine the shock her face probably gave away when she looked up into bright blue, captivating eyes.

"Y-yes," she paused to swallow. "How may-ay I help you, Mr. Kent?" She didn't feel comfortable calling him Clark anymore.

His eyebrow twitched upward slightly, probably catching her stuttering. He stood tall and straight in front of her, no longer with a slight hunch she noticed oddly (to herself). There was no smile or sign of amusement on his face. Eve wanted to slump in her chair but straightened her posture even more.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and Eve's heart skipped momentarily.

"Miss Lancaster," he looked slightly shocked before glancing around and lowering his voice a few decibels. "If you don't mind my asking, I would like to know if you are busy, in hopes that you are free tonight?"

It took her several moments to realize she was staring, probably looking like a deer caught in headlights. Even worse that her mouth hung ajar a little bit. Clark widened his eyes a little, probably waiting for an answer, she thought.

Speech came after two failed attempts. "Uh—- I—- it's—- ehh—- I m-mean—- I-I'm-I'm-I'm—- erm—-..." She sucked in a steadying breath. "No, I-I'm not busy." She was going to add, "not at all," but thought against it in sounding desperate.

She knew that Alyse had been no doubtfully listening, but hoped that she and Clark were talking low enough nonetheless to not draw any attention. It can be hard to have even a normal conversation when in a room full of nosy people who flocked towards any degree of gossip, in fear it be taken the wrong way.

Clark visibly relaxed, exhaling a puff of air. Eve noticed and couldn't help to wonder what he was worried about.

"Is, uh, dinner okay?" He rummaged the back of his curls, distracting her momentarily.

"W-what?"

"...May I take you out to dinner?"

"Oh! Not that," she waved her hands in disregard, "I heard you. Of course, I mean, yes, Clar—-Mr. Kent! I'm just...surpri—-"

She never finished her sentence; it was in that moment Clark leaned in and left a kiss on her cheek. She could swear that her heart stopped for several minutes. She had seen him look around swiftly but the next second was a blurry missing piece in her memory.

He had been dangerously close to her lips.

"So around nine is okay for you?" he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Eve noticed he waited a moment for her answer and left when she didn't give one. She just stared. And five seconds after he'd left, she was still staring after him. She placed a hand over her cheek feeling where his lips had just been for the second time.

Apparently, her job didn't seem to waver Clark's decision to ask her out.

* * *

**I hope this makes up for my absence. Sorry if some of this is shabby. What do you all think of Eve? Like her? Hate her? Should there be anymore chemistry between her and Clark...?**

**On an unrelated topic: why did it take me so long to realize how sexy Henry Cavill is?**

Please review


	4. Chapter 4

**Multiple uploads because it was not showing it came up on my email. Sorry for that.**

**Thank you so much Smartlooks and Carlypso. I really enjoyed your reviews :) And yes, Immortals was kickass and he was brilliant in it too.**

**-to Smartlooks: yes, I will as soon as this is over. **❥

* * *

**WARNING:** This chapter contains mature content. If you do not feel comfortable reading that, do not read the second half of the chapter.

If sexy time bothers anyone, I apologize. I just really had the urge to write this *****runs away***** I don't think I made it too graphic, just...suggestive. I am now changing this to M-rated.

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel and its characters, settings and such belong to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

_And she cried,_  
_"Kiss it all better, I'm not ready to go._..  
_It's not your fault love, you didn't know._  
_You didn't know."_

The next days were hell on Earth. Long, torturous, painfully lonely days.

Clark sneezed. He continued to gaze absentmindedly outside the window.

The remainder of that night was hazy. But Clark remembered everything. _Everything_—from the time he picked her up from her apartment, the fatal shot, to when the paramedics came and took her cold body away. After he had tucked the handgun in his trousers and climbed into the ambulance, the rest he couldn't recall. He knew that sometime in the night he had talked vaguely with a pair of cops and then later, somehow found his way back home, but the rest was not clear. It would have shocked him that he had done it all out of force of habit, without being all there mentally, and if it weren't for those habits, he would have gotten lost back to his small apartment.

He might have thought he'd caught a cold from coming back in the dead of night, soaking wet. But like the others, that thought too disintegrated quickly.

The rain had eased a little since then, but it had not completely stopped. He felt as if the sky was taunting him, as if it _knew_ she was going to die and it _now_ wept for her.

He hadn't moved from his spot in almost five days.

He'd slept once, but hadn't thought about doing it again. He has hardly thought at all. He's just sat, staring at the vast city below from his bedside. He knew he must have had more loose tears due to the dry salt trails on his cheeks.

_"The gun... The gun..." _The thought of that man, of his gun, of the craving for revenge repetived in his mind like an drum's beat.

BOOM

_The gun._

BOOM

_The gun..._

BOOM

_Use it._

BOOM

_Find him._

BOOM

_For Lois._

BOOM

_He_

BOOM

_killed her._

BOOM

_Payback._

BOOM

_It's on _  
_the dresser._

BOOM

_Murder..._  
_Of an innocent._

_The gun._

_She died_

_because of him._

BOOM

Murderer!

BOOM

_Get it._

BOOM

_Revenge._

_BOOM!_

_Use it!_

_BOOM_

_Find him!_

His head throbbed.

The hospital had tried to call him twice but he didn't bother answering. He knew she was dead. He'd held her in his arms for godsake! He had felt her last breath slip away...

Clark rubbed his face, his bones cracking when he turned to look at the clock. '9:55 pm' it read; stubble was beginning to grow on his chin, he felt. Clark couldn't even find the strength to sigh.

He felt so broken.

Instead, he looked back down at Metropolis, the many buildings' lights illuminating the busy life outside. The thought of Lois' murder returned again, and so did the feeling of the want for revenge. He shook his head but was unable to make it go away. It instead returned, more intensely.

More time went by until Clark finally stood from his hard bed. He didn't care to see how the number of hours that went passed, nor to look in the mirror as he threw on a shirt and walked to the front door. He didn't think to do anything but obey the thought that kept repeating in his mind. For if he had looked, he would have noticed the deep, dark circles under his eyes and see his eyes were again glowing the intensely bright red of his lasers. It was from rage this time that made his powers surface.

He swung open the door, barely remembering to do so unharshly in time to not rip its hinges. The rain was pouring heavily.

The gun was already in his pocket.

It was around midnight when he left his small apartment.

He didn't feel the freezing rain that stuck his hair to his face. He walked down many streets and alleys before coming across that familiar face. Alone.

Clark didn't know that Kryptonians' value for honor was just as strong as for revenge as well. And that revenge can make one crazy, into doing things he or she would not normally, especially for the sake of a loved one.

_(End Flashback)  
_**_*.§~§.*_**

**(Another time skip.)  
**The door barged open. The two stumbled into the room clumsily, mouths still locked in an epic battle. He kicked the door closed behind them.

She fumbled with hanging the keys but decided to leave it alone, dropping them, with her purse, to the floor as he picked her up slamming her against the wall. She smiled against his mouth, feeling how the more eager he was this time. Eve took his lower lip between her teeth, and sucked. She teased him, and in turn he pressed her harder against the wall.

She let go with a gasp, feeling his mouth lower to her neck and then her collar bone. Her legs wrapped around his waist as her back arched off the wall, a shrill mewl escaping her mouth when his nose dived between her breasts. Her arms around his neck tightened in increased arousal.

Clark smirked, liking the way she called his name.

That first date had been better than Eve had thought. If she'd known she and Clark would hit it off so well, she wouldn't have been such a nervous wreck at the restaurant or have worried so much about seeing him at work after that goodbye kiss (another on the cheek).

And naturally, Alyse hadn't hesitated to chat and tease about it once she found out. Luckily, she understood that it be kept secret from their co-workers.

Of course, over the next several work weeks Eve felt as if she was walking on pins and needles. But she'd noticed that Clark's attitude had been improving (some time before the water tank incident, as she thought of the day he first asked her out). She didn't expect for there to be a second time he wanted to see her. Nor the small vase of flowers she found on her desk one morning after their third date (and Clark had ironically been off on a business trip for an article; she mentioned she didn't like big events/gifts). After all, why would someone as good-looking as him want to be around someone so...normal as her, she'd thought.

Clark took a whiff of her aroma before swooping up to capture her lips again. A smirk played his lips as he whispered sweet nothings to her. Eve's eyes rolled up feeling his hips moving in small, tantalizing circles. Clark had quickly found out, in the beginning of the start of their 'moments' together, just how to get her hot. He applied more pressure on her core, making her squirm in anticipation.

"_Aah~_ M-more, Cl-ark. Please!" She gasped, tangling her tiny fingers in his dark curls when his hands went to cup her large chest. He silenced her with his mouth upon hers once more.

He had to steady his arms on the wall as to not crush her. It was always a challenge for him, each time. He constantly worried around her, and not only for if he got carried away he could easily kill her while bringing her to white-hot pleasure. It didn't help that she was physically smaller than..._she_ had been. Eve was almost a porcelain doll in comparison to him, which made her even the more precious to him.

_...If she bit his lip just one more time..._

Eve swore he growled when he jerked them away from the wall, pausing momentarily only to lock the front door before ravishing her lips again. He stumbled down the hallway, still holding her around his waist. Their hands didn't leave each other as Clark kicked open the bedroom door, their mouths finally unlatched only when he tossed her on the bed.

She let him undress her—something she would have freaked about earlier—loving each mesmerizing slow kiss and every slow removal of article of clothing that fell, until she was left in her underwear. Then the roles flipped.

Clark groaned deeply when her lips trailed down his broad chest to the top of his pants, wishing he hadn't done that teasing to her. It was too tempting..

Finally, they were both stripped. And the two were soon stark naked, tangling in her bedsheets.

This wasn't their first time. No, this _arrangement_, for lack of better words, began some months ago. Sure, they had done the courteous thing to date several times first and go from there. But after the first night together, it seemed as if they mainly got together to satisfy each other now.

Eve swallowed watching Clark climb to hover above her, each of his large hands on either side near her head. His glasses had gotten removed sometime during it all, and she marveled at his features for a moment.

Clark looked her in the eyes—it has become an unspoken agreement that he'd get her approval before anything. She gave a slight nod before they resumed their tongue battle.

He kissed her deeply. Passionately.

Their first had been over solace, a sort of 'post-tragedy' sex; it had been a mutual feeling. Eve knew he was still grieving over Lois. Though the thought hurt, she never said.

Clark's hot mouth closed slowly around her erect nipple. A loud whimper escaped her mouth that she didn't want him to hear, feeling him begin to suckle. Her back arched off the bed when his fingers danced around the apex between her thighs.

This time he was a lot slower, she noticed.

So, neither had known exactly what to do when they met again at work, but it eventually became clear that each wanted the same thing but were too afraid to ask for more. Clark had been sexually frustrated; Eve didn't want to ruin whatever this was they had built between each other.

She just let him play with her, to take her however he pleased. She knew he would always be gentle (especially after accidentally causing pain the first time), given how much stronger he was than her. So when he parted their lips, their noses grazing, and a questioning look on his features as he looked into her eyes once more, she knew he was asking for permission.

_"Hold my hand... This might hurt a little,"_ he had warned the first night.

_'Always the gentleman.'_ The thought made her smile. She tangled her fingers with his, parting herself for him.

She was telling him '_yes_.'

He filled her in one clean swoop. His size still surprised her; a sound of shock escaped her feeling him stretch her beyond her limit. She squeezed his hand in reflex, biting her lower lip, and her back raising slightly. Clark paused, letting her adjust. The look of worry didn't leave his face and she knew he was going to stop. Eve leaned up to kiss him as reassurance so he wouldn't.

Her breath caught in her throat as he slid in the rest of his length. When he started to move, Eve whimpered.

The bracelet Clark had given her was for these such occasions. The Kryptonian technology allowed her human body to not be so...breakable, but only whenever she wore it. It did not make her nearly as strong or invincible as he was, though. He had told her it was a gift, and as far as she knew, she always wore it and that is all she knew it to be.

The room was filled with kisses, touches, sounds of pleasure the rest of the night, and the bed's harsh, strained creaking. The next hours were pure ecstasy.

As much as she didn't want to think about it, Eve feared that their relationship would become purely sexual if it hasn't already. But she didn't allow herself to ponder much on the thought. Not only because that there was a hunk pleasuring her every night she wanted. But because she realized that she was utterly in love with Clark Kent.

She was in love with Superman.

He snaked his arm under her back, pulling her up to eye level. He kissed her _hard_. Eve was sure that her lips would be bruised and sore by morning...as well as the rest of her body. ...Again.

She was in love with a criminal. And didn't even know it.

* * *

**Two completely different sides of the same person...i wonder how Eve is going to take it...**

**i couldn't resist writing this. so sue me**

**ever heard the song "toxic" by Yael Naim? you should. it's SO sexy ! :D okay, it's officially Eve and Clark's song.**

**I keep getting followers and favorites for this story and though i thank you for those, but would it hurt you all to write at least one review?! Is that too much to ask?**


	5. Chapter 5

**to Smartlooks: i think this chapter might answer your question ;) I'm so glad you like her!**

**As for the rest, i hope this is okay. I hope I didn't make Clark too OOC. I tried taking into consideration that he isn't human by blood, so he is bound to be/act different under some circumstances. this is a sort of "what if" if a situation as this came up...**

**Well this is a fanfic for a reason, right? Hahahaha...oh whatever :P**

**One quick thing: I was thinking about doing another story, probably with Eve, but of course if you all would like that? And if anyone has any ideas or prompts to what the story be about, all suggestions are welcome. And I mean _ALL_. Because I can't think of any, haha...**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

Clark bolted upright, his chest rising and falling as if he'd run a mile. Well, a mile to a human, that is. His skin looked as that if he'd broke out in a cold sweat.

Well, for all he could tell in the pitch black dark.

He was breathing fast and had been scared out of his sleep.

He glanced beside him, and relaxed momentarily. Eve lay peacefully on her side, snuggled next to him. He was naked under the sheets he noticed, as was she.

Then worry weld back up in him. Clark hung his head in his hands. He didn't mean to fall asleep at her place again. He _shouldn't_ have. The feeling of dread, that something bad was going to happen still hadn't left despite his hope. He had felt it earlier some time ago, and it seemed to progress as the days ticked by. But tonight it had increased tenfold.

A part of his mind told him that is why he had came over instead of heading straight home after their night out. Why he had finally let go with her tonight.

Clark peered at Eve from between his fingers. She looked so beautiful, he thought; the way her dark hair splayed over the pillow carelessly—he thought it looked natural and a bit sexy, despite knowing she'd complain that it looked unkept. Her dark skin glistening in the moonlight made her appear almost as a goddess to him. As a final bittersweet blessing.

He reached over to tuck stray hairs in front of her face behind her ear. Her skin was so soft... He noticed the bruises and red marks that adorned her arms, torso and neck, feeling guilt take him for the first in a _long_ time.

Her expression looked so peaceful. His gaze lingered on her lips before noticing the bracelet still around her wrist on the pillow near her head. He began wondering how someone like him—literally an alien—was able to catch the eye of someone as unique as her.

From the day Clark laid eyes on her at The Daily Planet, he knew she was different—Clark unintentionally thought the words she had told him after witnessing an accidental display of his strength. And it was not just because her eyes were a pretty shade of grayish-blue instead of the normal dark brown. Clark knew she could probably handle the truth, his truth. She wouldn't flip out or tell, he knew. Still he wondered why he kept putting it off to tell her.

He even found himself considering on buying her the ring more often than once. Although each time he thought it ridiculous, since they've only been together just over a year.

No, those thoughts are behind him. Clark shook his head; he couldn't think this way. Time was ticking and he felt as if his was up. They were going to be on him any day.

He had to leave. Now.

Clark ran his hands down his face, doing his best to not shift the bed as he hung his legs off the edge to stand up. He failed however, hearing Eve stir.

"Clark..." she whispered.

_'Dammit.'_

He hoped she was still dreaming. He found this wasn't true when her eyes fluttered open.

She mumbled, sleep still in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he answered. "Just go back to sleep."

He looked over his shoulder and saw her staring him in the eye.

_'SHIT!'_

"...You're leaving?" She was awake now.

Clark could swear she sounded a bit unhappy. "Nah, nah," he lied. "I'm just..getting some water f-for a second."

She blinked. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two.

"...You're lying."

_'SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!'_

She continued. "You look worried. Plus you had sat up way too quickly you woke me up."

"A-and now, I'm going to go g-get some water now," Clark bit his lip. That wasn't exactly a lie anymore. He could really use some water right now.

"You bite your lip and stutter a little when you lie, Clark," she retorted as-a-matter-of-factly.

He didn't have a comeback for that one. She knew him way too well. After having a quick inner-battle, he finally came to the decision to tell her. After all, this might be the last time they saw each other.

He turned back toward her. "Actually Eve," he always chuckled at least once when around her, "there is something I've been wanting to say for a while." He had to let it down nice and slowly.

She sat up, making sure to keep her chest covered. She wasn't surprised very much—she knew something was coming, she just didn't know when.

Eve rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched. She was used to Clark leaving sometimes before she would wake up. So whatever it was that seemed to scare him so much, she felt it must be very serious. "What is it, Clark?"

_'Well this is it. It's now or never,'_ Clark thought, breathing out a nervous breath. "Well first off, my name isn't Clark."

She paused from ruffling her hair and looked at him confused.

"...Well not my only name. Uh, my birthname is Kal."

"Kal...?" She repeated, unsure of where this was going.

"Kal-El," he corrected. He paused, nervous. "...Did you know that's Superman's name too?"

"Okayy..."

"Clark—the name you know me as—is also my real name, too," he explained in case she suspected him of lying, "that fact is true."

Her suspecting look didn't change so he continued.

"But that time you saw me lift that newspaper dispenser," he noted the time back at The Planet when his ID had slid to the wall under the metal street dispenser and he had to move it to get behind the machine. She'd been the only one who noticed closely and knew no ordinary person would have been able to do so with such ease, let alone with one hand. "_That_ is a lie. Well sort of—that was just minuscule to how much I can lift," he explained. "I can do more. A lot more."

Eve resisted the urge to say, "well do _me_," watching his eyes drift to her mouth. She wet her lips automatically. Clark reached out to stroke her arm, as if to bring her closer, in immediate reflex. But stopped himself, pulling his arm back abruptly. He had to do this and leave as soon as possible; he feared the sirens could be on him any minute now. He fisted the sheets nervously.

Clark cleared his throat and closed his eyes to concentrate. "I'm just going to just come out and say it! I'm—-"

He snapped his eyes open to Eve straddling him. His bright blue eyes stared wide back at hers.

"Say what?" She sunk lower onto him, in his lap. Clark's hands automatically went to hold her wide hips.

He felt her hands travel from resting on his wide shoulders, sliding down to his bare chest. And all-too-quickly the memory of their intimate moments hours earlier flashed across his mind. Of his hands sliding up the swell of her hips; their bodies flush against each other, hot, viscid, and ecstatic. Of his hands tangling in her hair as she kissed down his chest, the feeling of her soft skin between his fingers, of the way she gasped and whimpered from under him over and over and over again. Of the three words that were just on the tips of their tongues but never quite made it out aloud.

Clark watched her lips part slowly, tempting him; Eve studied his eyes.

They kissed slowly and passionately until air became necessary.

That was the moment it dawned on Eve as to why Clark had seemed a lot slower that night, why he had taken his time, this time. He wasn't doing it for a fix for satisfaction—he had been making love to her.

The thought made her face flush and she looked away.

Clark made a sound of confusion.

Eve shook her head. She could practically hear him say 'you didn't get that?' if she were to say it aloud. "It's nothing," she blurted instead. "What is it you wanted to tell me," she bit her lip.

"Oh." Clark swallowed, kneading random shapes into the bottom of her back, making her arch her back and moan. His mouth was becoming dry again. "You see... K-Kal-El is Superman's real na-name as well, so..."

Eve looked him in the eyes. They were a brilliant blue even in little light. "So," she cut him off, "what you're saying is that you're—-" She stopped at feeling his messaging cease abruptly. Eve pouted, disappointed.

The corner of his mouth itched upward; he was finally going to be able to tell her. "I am Superm—-" Clark's ears perked up as his eyes darted toward the window, hearing the sound of sirens in the distance. His face hardened at realizing they were coming closer. He needed to leave. He'd better, he _had_ to for her good. But his body was frozen, breaking out in a cold sweat.

"Clark...?" Eve saw his sudden change of character, instantly concerned.

Clark sat rigid in place until bright blue and red lights danced around her bedroom walls. He finally regained movement and pushed her gently unto the bed, sliding on a his boxers and jeans as he walked to the window.

Eve called him again, sounding very worried this time.

He had trouble swallowing when he approached the window. There were two police cruisers parking outside the apartment building. One had doors open, indicating those officers were probably already inside. They were on the fourth floor so he had a good few moments before armed police barged in.

_"Clark Kent! You are under arrest! Come to the window with your hands up."_

He didn't need to open the window to hear the officer using the megaphone. The authorities have gotten a little extreme since the last he had "helped" them, Clark thought.

Eve became nervous. "Clark, what's going on?" She handed him his shirt and glasses. He slid them on, seeing she had tied a house robe around her waist.

Clark nodded at the officer holding the megaphone, already raising his hands. The old man spoke into a walkie-talkie before sliding back behind the wheel of his car.

The loud _BOOM!_ of the front door being kicked in didn't surprise him—but it did Eve. He didn't flinch when they shouted to put his hands behind his head; he knew Eve was freaking out inside when an officer grabbed her arm as well. He didn't resist when they shoved his face into the wall to handcuff him or when they escorted him roughly out the door and into the back of a car.

Eve watched helplessly as the bigger officer roughly shoved him into the back of a cruiser. Clark didn't look scared and fear pricked at the edge of her mind. His eyes were only on her as she was ushered into an opposite car.

She was afraid.

Clark finally looked at the police only to utter one request that if they didn't follow, all hell would break loose. The officer that met his gaze had to hold back a shutter; his eyes blazed, clearly indicating and promising the threat behind his words.

"Don't hurt her."

Eve looked into his eyes one last time before his door slammed. She didn't immediately know as to why tears welled up in her eyes.

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**I didn't want a flashback in this chapter and wanted to just focus on Clark and Eve.**

**I'm a little upset that this is coming to a close. I kinda like Eve. But again, If you all like Eve and want me to continue with more, please tell me.**

**Please review or PM**

**Much luv!**


	6. Chapter 6: part 1

**I broke this chapter in half because I realized how long it is. I didn't know how I originally wanted to stop this one at first, that's why this chapter is like this... sorry.**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

_"Now he sits behind prison bars,_  
_25 to life and she's not in his arms._  
_He couldn't bring her back with a bullet to the heart_  
_In the back of the man who tore his world apart."_

The more he walked down these alleys, the more they looked like the ones parents would warn not to go near, yet the same ones kids would dare each other to go down.

Dark alleyways were the least of his problems.

This would count to be the third night in a row Clark has walked the back streets of Metropolis. He would do the same routine each day: he would search the streets for that familiar face until the first rays of dawn would come, then go back to his apartment and stare out the window absentmindedly once more, waiting for nightfall to it start over.

This may seem odd to a normal person, leaning more towards stalker behavior, but not to a scorned Kryptonian. This is exactly their typical reaction.

Clark patted his pants pocket, feeling the hard metal of the handgun reassure him.

He had lied to the authorities. He had told the entire truth about the murder and the witness, but purposely left out the detail of the forgotten weapon. Why? He did not really know. But then again, this wasn't Clark anymore—this was a brusque and enraged alien at the end of his rope, gone insane by revenge.

Nights in a city were never quiet, which Clark—no, the alien Kal—was grateful for. Because then the noise wouldn't draw so much attention if he finally found...

He looked up, reading the street sign to make sure he hadn't walked the same street twice in the hours he's been out. His eyes fixed ahead after seeing he hadn't.

The rain had stopped for one day but had gotten worse as night progressed. He would think about the damp trail across his apartment later, but right now only one thought was on his mind.

It had to be around the early morning, he picked up, and was about to leave to go down another street when the sound of arguing caught his ears. Within three seconds, Kal-El dropped down at the end of said street where the sound had came.

No, not _landed_. It was neither careful nor graceful, and a dent in the road was left in his wake.

The street was extremely narrow. Hardly any cars were parked alongside the sidewalk because there was no room; stairs led either down or above to buildings that, inside, housed multiple apartments.

His gaze darted from left to right, from one door to another, determined to find the perpetrator. The murderer.

Further and further he walked, his heavy footsteps echoing off the street. Louder and louder the yelling grew as he came near the end of the street. One was shouting about the other's carelessness; the victim tried to defend himself but failed. Kal-El didn't care to listen to details, only to decipher the two.

The voices were both male, one which he recognized right away and he quickened his speed.

No sooner had the information sunk in, three buildings down, a figure slinked out the door. From inside, the sound of glass shattering as it hit the door just as he closed.

This is the man.

Kal stopped, watching for a moment; his head cocked slightly to the side. The man looked around nervously before hurrying down the building's steps and out into the street.

Kal-El followed him.

Down one, then two blocks, the alien was sure to keep his distance, intent on seeing where this guy was going. He knew that the man would walk down one of the "shortcuts," which were the narrow, dark alleys.

Kal reached into his pocket, clenching the cool metal.

And sure enough, a few minutes later the man turned down a path between two small buildings. It was the same alleyway Lois died in.

The man pulled his hood further over his face. He had been getting chills for the passed fifteen minutes and felt as if someone was watching him but whenever he turned, there was no one there.

By this time, Kal-El was sure to make his footsteps heard. And when the man quickened his pace down the alley, Kal wasn't far behind.

It wasn't until they were halfway thru did the man suddenly turn around one final time, just as Clark had done then; this time he did notice Clark. The man looked at him, skeptical, and then the feeling of dread seeped in.

Kal saw him swallow; the corners of his mouth twitching dangerously. In the next two seconds he was in front of the man. The first thing he noticed was Kal's bright, haunting, crimson eyes that glowed alone in the night.

The man's eyes widened instantly. He was terrified.

Before Clark could think, the barrel of a gun thrusted in front of him.

The man's words wavered. "Don't move," his face threatened what his voice could not.

Kal took a step closer, daring him to shoot. He was going to make this man pay. He was going to wring his neck, having him feel as much pain as Lois and himself had felt. He was going to make him cry until his throat hurt, holler until his voice became hoarse. He was going to—-

A bang going off shattered the night.

Kal flinched, feeling the _PLINK!_ of the bullet on his side. He didn't think, couldn't think. His ears rung from the loud sound on gunshot. Not the slightest hint of surprise shown on his face though, as he stared into the man's eyes until finally looking down. He removed his hand to find it covered in red.

Then the pain set in.

The man jumped at first, hearing Kal howl in pain. And as he stumbled, the man saw an opening. He didn't hesitate to tackle Kal-El to the ground and land blow after blow across his face.

The fight lasted minutes, and the man was gaining advantage. But Kal was stronger naturally and more agile, and he soon had the tables flipped, literally flipping the man into the air.

The man realized he was caught in Kal's clutches, and if he didn't get away, he wouldn't alive.

There was no such thing as restraint of power to Kal-El. Kryptonians were a proud and strong species who took pride in their abilities, specifically in combat. They do not hide their uniqueness in comparison to other life.

The man did eventually get away. Although it is physically impossible for a human to get far from the clutches of a creature intensively driven by such rage. Especially if it is something much stronger, such as a Kryptonian. It is proven scientifically, historically and logically.

He stared at Kal who was now facedown, his body lied crumpled on the cold concrete. He had doubled over as another wave of unexpected pain shook him. The man wasted no time in grabbing a nearby cinderblock and breaking it atop Kal's skull.

His sigh was heavy; It is done, he thought. A part of himself told him so, although his intuition...

No sooner had the man turned and had taken no more than three short steps, the clicking sound of metal stopped him in his tracks. Of the hammer of a gun cocking into place.

It wasn't his. His gun was still in his jacket. He hadn't pulled it out at all yet.

"Listen good and carefully. Because I know you remember me." Kal-El huffed, his breathing heavy.

The gun made itself known against the back of the man's head. His eyes widened to their max.

"Remember that woman you killed, here, that life you stole?" Kal didn't give him room to answer. "You made us hurt. So much..."

_'Us?'_ The man hoped that this wasn't a psychopath or who's overly possessive.

"You stole her—_from me_." The weapon was forced harsher against the back of the man's skull. "You will pay for all you've caused...feel as much pain..."

The man was a sweating mess now. Listening to this crazed man, this insane alien, pour his heart out about everything he had done with a slip of the finger. When Kal whispered a final, dark wish.

"Witness hell."

The night shattered.

_(End Flashback)_


	7. Chapter 6: part 2

**This is the second part of chapter 6. I broke it into two parts because I realized how long it was.**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

_"Now he sits behind prison bars,  
25 to life and she's not in his arms.  
He couldn't bring her back with a bullet to the heart  
In the back of the man who tore his world apart."_

_BANG!_

It had all been over in an instant.

_BANG!_

He was finally even; he had repaid his debts.

It all had seemed like a dream—he was there but he wasn't completely there—and for a long while he thought it was. He could imagine it all-too-clearly: the moonlight sillouheting the world around; of the cold, rainy night; and the man's head explode out in front of him. Of his crimson blood and insides flying into the air, outlined by the moon's light, as the bullet came out between the man's eyes.

_BANG!_

Everything had changed forever.

His fingers dug into his scalp. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to take back that moment, to make the loud noise stop echoing in his head.

His eyes stung at the start of tears, and the thought of his father and the hope he envisioned for him came to mind.

His body shuttered. And he rubbed his face tiredly as his fingertips rose to rest under his chin, his hands still together as if in prayer as he stared up at the white jail ceiling.

This is how Clark is where he is now, how he had steeped so low. He was miserable. For the last 15 hours, he's sat on this hard ass bed in this pitiful-looking jail cell.

At least he was better now that Eve wasn't trapped here as well any longer.

Eve...

After that night, the night he didn't worry so much about restraint, when he finally showed her just how much he loved her, they'd finally made love and not "just fucked." That night he had finally gathered the courage to tell her he was an alien superhero. He'd rehearsed it over and over in his head, smiling at the shock she'd have and her look as it all sunk in. And then, maybe, he just might have, he would have gotten on one knee right there in front of her...

But no, that wouldn't happen. Not at all now. He was a criminal after all. An outsider. An oddity, a demon.

He was a freak. And freaks don't get happy endings.

The guard outside his cell refused to avert his glare from Clark, and he had to restrain himself from burning the fat man to a crisp. Eve might have left the premises, but still, she wouldn't have wanted that even if she knew he could do it...

That night, almost twenty-four hours ago, she too had been arrested right in her apartment. Clark remembered the look of shock and fright on her face as the officer slammed his car's door and drove off. They had been together that night and he knew she must be hurting inside, thought he didn't know if she'd show it on the outside.

...She wouldn't forgive him.

Eve Lancaster... She had been _his_ hero. If Clark was a devil, then she was the angel that pulled him from his mental-hell he'd been sinking in for so long.

They had been questioned separately hours ago before she was released. The detectives figured out that she'd had nothing to do with the crime nor knew what had happened. She'd just been a worried and scared mess. For him—he'd listened in on her questioning. Clark had refused to speak much when it was his turn, he just gave short, one-word answers or a shrug of his shoulders.

He felt even worse now.

"Miss Lancaster. Do you know anything about the event that took place around 1:45am on October 23?"

"Um n-no." She'd twiddled her fingers in the manner that always made Clark smile, thinking how cute she looked nervous. "What had happened? Is it about Clark, because the police had called for him? I-is he alright?!"

"Yes, he's fine, Miss Lancaster," one had said. Pause.

"Is he your boyfriend, Eve? Are you both in some sort of relationship?" the other had asked, trying to be friendly to her to make her more at ease.

The question had made Clark's heart skip and he jerked his head up. The guard had raised an eyebrow at his sudden reaction.

Eve had looked down. Usually she would have smiled nervously and fidgeted more, but instead, this time her face remained grim.

"Um," she paused. Her eyes darted, trying to find an answer.

The two men in suits became suspicious. The man who was the more abrasive of the two stated a similar question, harshly.

Clark's heart hammered in his chest.

Eve barked a laugh. "Under normal circumstances I would have let him answer that, more because..." She paused, feeling tears choke her. She was about to voice her feelings for the first time in and about their relationship.

"Honestly," her voice cracked. "...I love him. I do, I really do, and for so long. Although I'm not sure of what he'd say, because its never been finalized like that. We didn't have...a typical relationship. ...At least, I'm not even sure if he sees it as _that_."

She stopped to wipe her face with her robe's sleeve. It still smelled like him from that night after he stayed over and had used her shower...

"I-I'm sorry." She sniffed. "It just hurts, _so much_, because he'd probably never know...c-'cause I'll never be able to tell him," and she had bursted into tears after that.

If Clark had been able to see himself, he'd see his skin had paled.

And after that, he didn't have much to say. He answered all of the authorities' questions when he had been called in, and sat threw their threats. But there was no way he could counter Eve. How could he?

He wanted to punch himself. He wanted to send _himself_ hurtling thru buildings for his stupidity. _'How could I not have picked that up earlier?'_ he thought to himself. ...Because he had still been hung up on Lois, letting reality sink in that she was actually gone. He had used Eve, abused her kindness and generosity. ...He'd taken advantage of her—that thought literally making him sick.

Clark sat his head back against the wall. It felt cool to the touch.

He liked to think that he'd done all those bad things in the beginning as he picked himself up, at least not done them on purpose. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had begun to crave Eve's free-spirit-like personality and honest words of advice increasingly. The more eager he had become to go along with her invites for lunch in the park, or roll down the hills after work just for the heck of it to go home itching all over afterward. The more he realized she hadn't just submitted to him out of sympathy, but she'd actually gave herself to him—she gave him her first time because she loved him. And he to her. He'd give his all to let her know .

But she loved Clark Kent. She had no idea that Kal-El and Superman too were the same person and, therefore, she loved neither. Would she, Clark wondered. Would she even accept it? _Him?_

His worst fear is that she wouldn't. That is what scared both Superman _and_ Clark Kent.

"Kent! Get your ass up." The guard banged his baton on the cell bars while bellowing loudly.

Clark _loved_ his "nice" personality.

One of the detectives stepped into view in front of the metal bars, the same detective who had quizzed him yesterday. Clark looked, seeing it was the nicer of the two, who had asked if he and Eve were in a relationship.

"Mister Kent..."

He didn't like the edge to his voice.

"We need you to come with us for some more questioning."

Clark didn't resist as the guard, whose nametage apparently read Logan, swung the door wide, literally grabbed Clark's collar and hauled him to his feet. Neither did he wince when Logan twisted his beating stick into Clark's back before roughly shoving him down the hallway because, well, it didn't hurt him. (He has much tougher skin than humans, remember.)

But he was indeed becoming weaker, and not just because he hadn't gotten any yellow sun's light. He felt it as Logan ordered him to sit in one of two lone chairs, aside from an empty table, in the interrogation room and grabbed his shoulders to roughly pull him down to sit.

The reason he was becoming weak is also the reason for so long he hadn't cared about anything at all. Clark's mind went back to the night after the incident on October 23rd. Of days later when he woke up groggy headed, confused, dreary and with an excruciating pain in his side. After he had pulled the shrapnel out, he was surprised to find a large reddish bullet.

Bruce had yelled at him when Clark finally told him, but he knew the billionaire was only concerned—it had been Red Kryptonite. Bruce had made immediate arrangements to have Clark "checked," but Clark hadn't gone thru with it. He now knew it was an effect of the kryptonite that made him avoid Bruce until it had worn off on its own months later. It had all begun because of the kryptonite.

Never had Clark been so glad to have been around the poisonous stone. Because he knew if he had never been shot with it, leaving it in his body for the amount of time, its apathetic effects would not have lasted for so long. If it hadn't, he would have never went to that bar that night or kissed Eve in the back of that taxi cab. He wouldn't have been riding on its negligent waves afterwards, because he knew if otherwise, he wouldn't have spent so much time around her. He wouldn't have never really gotten to know her.

He would have never fallen in love with her.

Clark's hands rested heavily, and still handcuffed, atop the table and watched quietly as Officer McGriffe, as his badge said, sat down across from him. **(Think of in the movie when Supes was arrested, minus the suit and Lois.)**

McGriffe opened his mouth to begin question but Clark interjected.

"Don't I get one phone call or request first? I hadn't since," he blurted.

McGriffe let his jaw hang open for moments before closing it and asking, "who would you like to call?" He sighed, annoyed.

"Eve Lancaster. My girlfriend."

The lanky redhead man grinned. It looked sick on his face. "Well you're in luck." He motioned to the reflecting window covering the entire right wall, that hid the onlookers. "She's right here, listening."

The chair protested as Clark stood. "I know."

The camera and microphone were on and Clark knew those behind the glass must have heard him mumble.

The officer, who was the more burly of the three behind he window, glanced at Eve. She had cleaned up and now wore casual jeans and a shirt, no longer in a house robe. Her hand was gripping her chest.

Clark didn't break the cuffs this time—he wasn't going to tell just yet. He stood at the mirror as if he really was in front of her. He could see her just as clearly.

Eve tilted her head in the way he loved when she began thinking or noticed something. She saw Clark's eyes dilate as he saw passed their barrier, and squinted hers slightly.

"I know that you must be..._more_ than enraged by all this. I was going to tell you, honest Eve, I was. But I didn't mean for any of this to happen. It... ...it wasn't me, not really, mentally.."

_"Didn't mean for any of what?"_ Clark read her lips more than hearing her whisper.

"I didn't mean for _this_," he indicated to the jail around them, "to happen. Really."

She frowned.

She'd witnessed Clark's dramatic persona change several times and knew how he could be. His attitude would change as easily as flicking a light switch. She'd seen it more times than he probably noticed. It was like he had little triggers—his expression would become hard hearing someone yell for help, or he'd become angry when a lot of personal questioning was directed at him. He's stormed out during many of their arguments, or even when she was just trying to reason. She didn't know that that was all because of the kryptonite still in his blood.

Eve's lip quivered.

"But with you, it all was true. That _was_ me."

Clark looked down. Suddenly he couldn't look her in the eye. Silence followed for several minutes.

"Eve, this is hard for me. Probably harder than anything I've ever had to say, but I _need_ to let you know..." He looked her in the eyes.

Her eyebrows crinkled together worriedly. She didn't speak any further so he continued.

"I love you, Eve Lancaster. I love you greatly and I always have."

She remained frozen for many moments, her eyes widening and her hand moving to cover her mouth, now in a wide "O" shape. But she still looked very worried.

"No, I never expected to fall in love with you at first, but I have. Hard. And there is no denying that."

His chest felt a little lighter now with just seeing her hand lower a fraction and her eyes watering as a grin twitched her lips.

"I would spend the rest of my life with you... But that isn't it." He paused, considering the rest of their onlookers. He finally decided to go for it. "Remember that time you said you noticed, with the newspaper dispenser? And those other times I lied that you were going crazy (he joked, smiling a little) that you hadn't seen me move something too heavy or move too quickly than should be possible?"

He waited until she nodded her head 'yes,' but it was faint.

"That all really happened; you had been right, Eve. But that's because...I'm...not... ...human..."

The entire room was so quiet, a rat's scampering could have been heard.

He stammered a little and Officer McGriffe motioned to the camera to bring the crazy papers in for Clark.

Clark turned from her again. His heart was beating very fast now. "That's because...I'm...I'm Superman."

Silence again. For a _long_ while.

_"Prove it."_

Clark jerked his head up.

She had her arms folded. Eve glared up at his shocked expression. She repeated herself: _"prove it. Prove that you're...that you really are..."_

"Well," he began nervously, "how else could I see that you're wearing that blue shirt from that boutique you like? Or that your hair's in a messy ponytail? Or even hear you, for that matter?"

Her arms instinctively covered her chest defensively, but Eve's eyes narrowed more._ "You could have already saw, a lucky guess."_

She still didn't believe him. She didn't want to, almost.

Clark looked back at McGriffe. He motioned to his handcuffs. "Could there be another pair of these?" He didn't want to get in any more trouble.

After neither McGriffe nor those behind the microphone spoke, Clark turned back to the window. He sighed, holding his wrists right in front of Eve, his face saying _"see?"_ The metal snapped like straw.

Everyone remained silent. Her look of shock slowly increased as the information sunk in—she saw it now. Eve grabbed her stomach; and then her expression turned into fear, and eventually horror. And with every change on hers, his face fell even more.

This is not how Clark wanted her to find out, nor the reaction he hoped. He looked down, ashamed. His voice now barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry..."

Eve did back up a few steps, her hand not leaving her open mouth. She was beyond stunned; it had never occurred to her. Of those times he suddenly had to leave or blow her off—he indeed had her steamed in the beginning, but still. She never thought.

Clark is Superman.

The two had never even been in the same thought together. She had never paid much attention to the man clad in blue and red, not as much as Lois or many others had.

Kent equaled Superman.

The man she had been infatuated with for so long had also saved countless lives, including her own. The one she had given her all and heart to was also America's greatest hero.

Supes.

Clark.

They were one and the same person. ...He could have crushed her and killed her at anytime, on purpose or accident, that is what scared her. He could have let the information slip out so easily, but hadn't. With everything he'd done, he had remained kind and gentle. Her soft giant, as Alice had joked of their heights. The man she loved had a dangerous double life.

She'd kissed an alien, she realized. Eve had slept with Superman.

She felt dizzy and had to brace herself on the wall. It was all like something in a dream, her breathing now irregular.

Clark felt the edges of his eyes sting. But he stuck his chin out and straightened his posture instead of slumping down he so much wanted to do. He eyed the remaining people in charge behind the glass. "My origin is from a planet called Krypton," Clark turned briefly to the camera. All of it has been recorded so far, so he thought that he'd might as well explain it all. "It doesn't exist anymore because it disintegrated the day of my birth and I had been immediately sent on a crash-course for a stable planet far off—that happened to be Earth." He tried to add a small laugh but it came out more as a cough. "And from then...you already know the rest."

Silence seemed to like this surrounding the most; minutes ticked by with them all doing nothing but stare at him, letting the pieces come together. Clark felt as uncomfortable as an oddball experiment in an observatory.

Officer Hunt was the first to break the long quiet. "You do realize that this doesn't change the situation, Superman—- Mr. Kent—- _whoever_. You will still stand before a judge and be trailed, perhaps charged, and most certainly have to spend some time."

Clark clenched his jaw. Eve rubbed her arms like she was cold, looking at the officer. Her fingers fidgeted with the bracelet still around her wrist.

"Superman or not; hero or regular person, you still have to abide by the law as any other citizen."

Clark nodded. "Yes officer."

Eve opened her mouth, probably to defend him, but Clark interjected purposely, again. "But in defense, may I point out that it had not been by my own doing, and that I had been under the influence of kryptonite?"

"Kryptonite...?" Hunt raised his brow like he wasn't believing what he was hearing.

"Yes sir. Red kryptonite."

"Red huh?" Hunt repeated over-drastically. "Ain't that stuff suppose to kill you? ...Thought it only came in green."

"There is also green, sir. Um, and _that_ one can kill me...if I stay in close contact with it for too long. ...The red does not have any specific effects, and all its cause are wide ranged and unpredictable."

Eve was rubbing the front of her neck, a habit she does when she's frightened or nervous. Clark heaved a sigh.

Hunt rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Save it for the judge, Kent. That's all I can tell ya." He sounded almost apologetic.

Eve saw Clark clench his jaw again. He didn't like that answer—no one would have—but there was nothing she can do. What _could_ she do? It suddenly dawned on her that not even Superman can get out of every pinch and bad situation. She knew the thought was inappropriate in this situation, but still couldn't help but notice the irony.

She turned toward Hunt, apology in her eyes. "Could I have a moment with him?"

The balding man eyed her for some time, jaw clenched. He'd seen this quite a few times—two lovers, it was worse if they were young, one convicted of a crime that would separate them for years to come or even a lifetime. He'd seen the heartbreak and felt sorry for them every time, watching their last goodbyes even if the convicted turned out to be innocent. Hunt finally granted her access inside the room.

The door clicked shut behind her. Eve just stood there. She looked at Clark, and he stared back at her. She knocked the wind out of him when she suddenly flew across the room and collided into him to bury her face in his chest. She sobbed uncontrollably. Clark rested his hands on her shoulders to reassure, then all too suddenly her hand came across his face. Rage and betrayal was so clear on her face, a shiver ran down Clark's spine.

She knew the slap didn't hurt him, but still.

"How could you." It wasn't a question but a shaky-voiced accusation.

Clark's brows knitted together, unsure of how to answer.

"You don't think that that is something to... After all I... I wouldn't, _didn't_, do such a thing to you, s-so why... Just because you're...you're...you think that you can just...just...just..." She couldn't form words. Anger, hurt, and tears jumbled up her sentences and blames.

Clark hung his hands at his side now, just staring down at her hair, with her face now soaking his shirt. He was frozen in his spot. Her fist pounded his chest once.

"...I... I...hate you. _So much_ right now." She hiccuped and sniffed. Her small hands fisted the back of his shirt as more tears ran down her face. Never had he seen her cry before, so he felt horrible not only seeing but knowing that he is the one to cause it. _"...But I can't. Not completely for long..."_

If he didn't have heighten hearing, Clark would have missed that whisper into his shirt.

Eve reached up to wipe her face, but stopped feeling Clark's already there. Her eyes remained closed relishing the feel of his thumbs wiping away the salty tracks on her face. She felt like a little baby sniffing like that, and tried to look away from him, but couldn't.

Clark's hands slid to cup her face and then prevented her from turning her head. As he stared into her reddening eyes, Eve wondered how she could have been so stupid to never have noticed his alter ego sooner—they looked so similar up close. She wondered how in the world she could have fallen in love with him—literally an alien—in the first place. She remembered the day Jimmy had first introduced her to Clark after he'd came back from a business trip, when she'd first met Clark. But the day she began having feelings that weren't friendship-like, it was impossible for her to pinpoint.

She wondered why such a marvelous person—as many fangirls have categorized him—why, as the last of his unique species, he'd chosen to fall in love with _her_? _'An ordinary, weak human,'_ she thought to herself.

Clark inched their faces closer. And their lips collided together in bittersweet passion. It was perfect.

No matter what title he carried, Eve thought, this was the same man. The same man she'd fallen in love with, no matter if he wore glasses or a cape. He's the same man who whispered against her lips that he'd spend the rest of his life with her until it killed him. He whispered that he loved her, that he apologized for the way he acted and not saying so until so late, that he'd always be in love with her.

Clark straightened, and Eve stood on tiptoes to try to remain near his lips, wanting to hear him once more, to tell her it was all going to be alright. But she failed, and watched his expression become hard again. He was in hero-mode now, she now picked up. His ears perked like a hound, picking up a sound she could not.

Clark leaned down to her, taking her chin in his fingers, and kissed her agonizingly slow. When he pulled away, her eyes snapped open.

"Leave now."

Eve stared, bewildered, in his eyes hearing his whisper. That blue will forever be her favorite color.

He pulled away fully. "You must leave. Now." He ushered her to the door, knocked on it harshly.

"_Wh-what? Wait!_"

"_You all have to get out of here! Now! GO!_"

He was yelling now. Clark had already put Eve back behind the glass.

"_Why? What is it!? What's coming? ?_" She yelled at his back. He walked to the opposite wall and stood ready, leaving her. Ignoring her.

The booming sound came closer. It was breaking through the walls of the jail coming closer and closer. It would be coming from the opposite way to the direction they were in.

Eve probably wouldn't listen, this he knew. Also that the cops would stay to hopefully help, so there was no hope in one of them taking her to safety.

...If anything happened to her...

Clark turned to call over his shoulder to tell her what destruction was coming, hoping that would make her understand that she needn't be here and would leave. He turned his sight away at the wrong time.

Before a sound passed his lips, the wall fell away, the trespasser knocking Clark flat on his face. And Eve did want to flee but was rigid to the spot by shock and fear.

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**aaaand CLIFFHANGER! I think... You asked for more so can I get any reviews for this long chapter?**

**This chapter had been especially difficult for me to write, so please leave a review. You still like the story thus far? Are you starting to become frustrated and/or disappointed? Is it too much? PLEASE tell**

**(And if you hadn't gotten it, this chapter takes place after the very first chapter.)**

**There might be a special (I guess you could say) announcement next chapter. I hope this chapter's length makes up for the long weeks I've been away :) Just 1 review is all**


	8. Chapter 7

**chapter dedicated to **sarahmichellegellarfan1. **Thank you so much **:)

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

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**Kiss It Better**

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_"He holds on to a memory,_  
_All she is, is a memory~_  
_Hey, hey..."_

_Eve..._

_Lois..._

_...Lois..._

_...Eve..._

_...Eve laughing..._

_...Lois' hair flowing in the wind..._

_Eve looking up at him curiously..._

_Lois looking away in apology..._

_Eve sticking her tongue out playfully..._

_...Lois comforting him after that invasion..._

_...Lois Lane..._

_...Eve Lancaster..._

They were both memories to him now. Both beautiful, wondrous memories that made his eyes want to cry.

_One with long, reddish hair. Another has brown voluptuous waves._

Memories played behind his eyes. Memories of one that had already gone, and of the other he was almost certain would leave him too after all this was over.

_...chasing Eve across the park like children..._

_...Of that kiss with Lois after stopping Zod's attempt to destroy Earth._

_...Eve whirling around and smothering whipped cream on his nose._

_...Lois lightly bopping his head as she hurried to leave the office to cover the next story._

_Of Eve looking away nervously, but not quick enough for him to not see the red hue blending with her face._

_Of Lois giving him a knowing glance in the elevator..._

_Of Eve worrying, asking if she has made any mistakes across the restaurant table._

_...The night he carried Eve on his back to her apartment after she passed out at a bar..._

_...The glare Lois sent him after he answered Perry with something he guessed wasn't the right response._

_Of Eve's honest answers that were sometimes a little hurtful._

_Of Lois confronting him at the graveyard to tell his story._

_Of both of their looks after explaining his father, Jonathan's, death._

_Of their skin sliding against his, one's hands very pale and the other a light caramel color..._

_...Of the feel of their lips with his..._

They were both different women, so how did he fall for both?

...They were like memories to him now.

Clark swallowed, planting his feet firm on the ground, readying for a fight. He turned to look of his shoulder—his mind telling him not to look away—to yell one last time for Eve to run away. Then the next thing he knew, everything had blacked out.

When he awoke moments later, his head was spinning. Clark shook his head and looked around, momentarily forgetting where he was. Looking up, Zod glared down at him, a snarl shaping his mouth.

As the general glanced up briefly at their onlookers, Clark took notice of his enemy. Zod was alone, it seemed, and he was emitting some sort of powerful energy Clark could not put a finger on. He also wore a different metallic armor, this one appearing much sturdier and resistant than the one from their first encounter.

After their first "meeting" that left Smallville, Kansas literally in flames and with his armor's breather broken, the general had fled. But the parting death-glare he sent to Clark—or Kal, as what he insisted calling him—haunted Clark the many months that followed. It had gotten so bad, others began pointing out how he constantly looked to the skies as if it were going to fall.

That all changed on Lois' death and the night he was shot with Kryptonite. That was when all worry and then rationing flew out the window and slattered on the concrete. Clark had forgotten all about Zod; he had begun to act more on selfish impulses that even now he found odd behavior.

Clark leaned back on his elbows. His head ebbed in pain.

Zod circled to Clark's opposite side, his back no longer to the mirror. "So this is where you've been hiding, Kal?"

Clark's heartbeat sped hearing how calm Zod's voice sounded.

"It's too shameful for my taste," Zod glanced around the empty room, seeming oblivious to the men positioning guns behind the glass. "...just like _you!_"

Pain exploded across Clark's abdomen, his body instinctively curling into a ball as he turned the other way.

He wasn't used to the pain and it was almost overwhelming. The throbbing in his skull accompanied by that in his stomach was enough to make his head swim again. Clark pushed up onto his elbows regardless.

"You low-life piece of..."

The rest of Zod's insult was lost in a haze as his metal-clad knee knocked Clark's neck backwards.

Clark's nose was broken, he could feel. The pain was excruciating.

He reached up and was surprised to see bright crimson liquid glisten on his fingers. His nose ran like a red river, and if he removed his left hand, his sleeve would be dotted with blood as well.

The world was now a haze; Clark's vision swam in and out of blurry colors. This was not right...he should not be in such pain so easily...

He made out Zod's blurry image as he squatted in the face of the younger Kryptonian. He was saying more insults, something that was relevant to his supercilious mentality. Clark couldn't hear it pass the blood rushing in his ears.

Zod smirked and Clark felt warm wetness slide down his brow—more blood.

Zod scowled before Clark felt his fist tangle in his hair. He tried not to scream as the shorter alien pulled him up to his eye level. A shrill sound still escaped Clark's lips; he could only hang limp under the general's iron grip.

Clark's breath came out in raged puffs. Zod tilted his head in thought; he breathing exactly normal.

Zod was looking at him, a crazed look about him. His voice sounded as clear as if they were underwater. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision enough to see the ambitious homocidal.

Clark's ears cleared in time to hear Zod's trick question.

He pulled back his lips in a snarl and answered it with just as much ass he was given.

Zod's eyes widened even more if possible, Clark's answer catching him off guard. He said something more, but Clark's hearing drifted in and out.

Zod was now yelling.

"Then if you love these weak scums of filth, _you can _**_die with them_**!"

Clark whimpered feeling the long, sharp metal force itself between is ribs. When there is pain this strong, the body freezes, tensing up and feeling is as if the world stopped for a moment.

Despite the pain, Clark's vision was no longer hazy, and he caught Zod's wild expression before he was held higher in the air.

Zod switched his hand in lightening speed from fisting Clark's hair to holding him by the face. But he wanted to see Clark—Kal—he wanted to see the look in his eyes as he felt his pain. So Zod parted his fingers to allow one of Clark's wide eyes stare back at him from between his covered fingers. Zod's superior strength allowed him to left the taller alien high before smashing his body, skull first, deep into the hard floor. Zod felt a satisfying crunch underneath his hand.

He was going to get rid of this annoying nuisance Kal and finally obtain the codex.

Zod stood, flexing his muscles.

Clark didn't feel his lasers charging up until they shot from his eyes.

Zod was all-too-ready—he met Clark's heat lasers with just as much intensity. ...And then more, as his quickly overrode Clark's, the marker where the red lights met pushing further and further to Clark's face.

Clark didn't know the consequences of heat vision pushed _back_ on the eyes and didn't want to find out. He closed his eyes—actually one eye, the other lagged. The blow from the heat hitting him tossed him back, flipping him onto his back. He was out of breath, the air no longer seeming to collaborate with his lungs. His hand shook raised to the eye that hadn't closed when the blast hit. All he felt was warm, wet blood and Clark felt panic begin to weld up in him.

Why was he not fighting as he would have; why did he feel so weak, the thought had passed Clark's mind more than once. There was something about Zod and his armor this time...something about that spear he was stabbed with...

He still felt immensely, overwhelmingly guilty for his actions.

Clark glanced at the mirror, hoping Eve had left by now.

That panic increased seeing the door open. The words passing thru his head were all but were pleasant.


	9. Chapter 8

**Since the story is coming to an end, here's the announcement like I promised: I am in the process of writing another MoS story. So if you are becoming not-so-fond of this story (Kiss It Better) anymore, you can look forward to that. It's planned to be a sort of spin-off to Kiss It Better but there will definitely be Eve/Clark in it. If you're interested, add to author alert.**

**All thanks goes to Smartlooks :)**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

_He cries,_  
_"Stay with me until I fall asleep,_  
_Stay with me~"_

Clark's face hit the floor milliseconds the intruder broken thru the wall. He didn't get up and she realized he blacked out.

_'Superman got knocked out...!?'_ Officer Hunt swallowed.

This was the last person they expected to see. Heck, _no one_ even expected the jail wall to be broken thru!

Hunt gained a sickening feeling as his eyes met Zod's. This was not good. Not at all.

"So, Kal," Zod began talking as if just a casual conversation. His eyes were cold looking down at Clark on the ground. His foot kicked Clark over onto his back and watched him roll over, holding his stomach in pain. "This is where you've been hiding..."

It was obvious Clark was still spinning in the head—he struggled more than necessary to get up but managed to lean back on his elbows after Zod kneed his nose. The sight of Clark's head snapping backward, blood spewing from his face, was enough to finally make the officers behind the glass feel uneasy.

The egoistic general squatted to look Clark in the eye, a faint smirk on his face at the blood dripping from Clark's brow. He grabbed a handful of Clark's curls and forced him up.

"Kal..."

Clark met his wide, hard gaze intently but remained quiet.

"I don't get it. Why would you _not_ aid us—your own people and your home—and surrender the codex?"

Clark didn't speak.

"You'd rather stay amongst these wretched, pitiful filths rather than your own kind!?" Zod no longer hid his anger, now yelling.

Clark heaved a shaky breath, his glare didn't waver. "I told you..." He gasped, ignoring the blood streaming down his face. "Earth _is_ my home. And I'd _rather stay here_ than extinguish an _entire innocent people_."

Zod snarled; he didn't like that answer. "We _will_ have the codex, Kal-El, even if we have to take it _by force_."

Clark knew the lengths Zod will go to get what he wanted, of how one of his men had strapped him to a metal surface and practically threatened to kill him to get the codex—the goal was to, either him dead or alive.

Clark's eyes glowed red. He refused Zod's offer.

"If you love these weak _Earthlings_ so much, then _why don't you _**_die with them_**_!_"

It is quite odd how time can repeat itself, even more when the same event happens in close time range and among close acquaintances or to relatives. The Time Keeper could only shake its omniscient head at the events unfolding.

Zod hollered, unsheathing a long, thin sword from a cavity in his armor. If Clark were to see it, he would not have missed the dried, crusted blood that stained the blade. But then again, he was hypnotized by Zod's crazed glare and then as pain seared his stomach.

Only Clark's eyes widened as the pain caught him off guard when the blade buried deep inside him, breaking several lower ribs. He could feel his insides puncture.

The blade is still stained with Jor-El's blood.

_"Stay with me until I fall asleep,_  
_Stay with me-e~..."_

Eve covered her mouth just before the scream retched from her throat. One of the officers strained to hold her back by the waist when she lunged forward.

The sight of the small crater made when Zod smashed Clark, head first, deep into the hard tiled floor was enough to make everyone cringe, an air of uncertainty filled the small room.

Clark didn't move; Zod stood slowly, flexing his shoulders and rolling his neck. Eve's heart skipped. She sneered watching his smug expression, her snarl not much different than Clark's minutes ago; she felt an overwhelming emotion, including anger, bubbling up inside her. She struggled against the officer's arms but his grip was far stronger than hers.

Then when bright red lights shot from both Kryptonians' eyes, everyone froze. That fear Eve had felt earlier flooded back—she'd come to accept Clark's other abilities, but this is one she hadn't known of and the sight of it scared her.

Bright red blinded the room as both lasers hit Clark full force, blowing him across the room.

_*beat quickens*_  
_"Stay with me"_

Officer Hunt swallowed and begun whispering a verse of Mother Mary.

This time a shrill sound did escaped Eve's mouth. She saw Clark glance her way and the anger overtook her. His chest heaved painfully, blood oozed from his stomach and the hole where his left eye had been.

He looked so helpless, so small and weak. So...different; it was almost hard to believe that this was Superman who lay on the tile seeming half dead.

The look he gave her was one of those wide, lost puppy-dog looks whether Clark knew it or not. It was one of the looks she had fell for, one of the things that had made him so irresistible and addicting to her. And suddenly flashes—memories—playedback in her mind.

Zod mumbled something about weak fathers being just as their sons before painfully forcing Clark to turn on his stomach and forcing the long blade deep into his back.

_"Until I fall asleep,"_

Clark felt the sword embed in his spine, feeling bones break and nerves shot; his body folded up and he yelled in pain.

His holler was enough to make her blood run cold and Eve felt tears pooling in her eyes. Zod twisted and drove the sword deeper into his spinal cord, seeming to enjoy Clark's wails of agony.

Clark's gaze rolled up to the ceiling, he body convulsing violently.

There was definitely something in that sword...

Eve's eyes fell upon the emergency axe in glass case on the wall.

_"Stay with me-e~"_

Zod yanked the sword from inside Clark, standing. He merely looked down nonchalantly at the man twisting in pain, still crying out.

_"The way you possess a sense of morality and we do not, proves to be your demise and puts us at an evolutionary advantage, Kal-El."_

The memory of Faora's words echoed Clark's conscious. And so did Eve. The laugh she'd give. The way her hands felt on his chest. ...The red her nose would turn in winter. ...The sadden expression when she was unhappy.

The look in her wide eyes now was unreadable. Clark blinked, looking away.

She felt as if she couldn't breath, as if she too was the one Zod stabbed numerous times. Her memories, all of Clark, flashed in Eve's mind. Of the first day she and Clark met—it was not love at first sight and it took some time until feelings for each other bloomed.

_Of those rare, hair tossing, head-thrown-back laughs Clark would give._

_The looks they would give each other across the table..._

_Of the effort put into keeping their feelings and then relationship from others, and then the awkward and sometimes funny situations that came from it._

_...Of the way his large, strong arms would encircle her waist and pull her to his commands._

_The deflated, lost composer he had when Lois died._

_..The tickle of his breath on her ear..._

_The smile on Alyse's face when she found out about the secret couple, and any associate to them whenever Jimmy was around (he hadn't known)._

_...Of the way Clark would mess with his curls when he was nervous._

_...The look on his face when he'd stutter out an excuse..._

_...Of the small vase of flowers left on her desk after their third date, and the many small gifts that followed._

_...The few times she's run into him, spilling coffee over his shirt..._

_...Of the way her curves seemed to mold so perfectly with his..._

_Of that wide, toothy smile he'd give her..._

Eve tugged against the officer restraining her, her mind processing on rage only. She was no longer thinking rationally.

Zod had no right to be here, to be doing this to Clark. He was hers; she was his.

This was the man that she had changed her schedules to his please, the man she stayed up late nights with when he was uneasy for what she now knew because of many villains and worries.

This is the man she had given everything to, who she felt everything for, who she'd spend her life with (which was odd for her), who she came to love stronger than ever imagined. The man who who accepted her with all her quirks, and she to him.

Eve didn't care what or who he was known as—this is the same man, Superman or not, who had stolen her heart. This is the same man who'd taken her for takeout or icecream on rainy days. The same man who somehow knew how to make her feel better after she'd have a bad day.

The man who was her soulmate, as corny as it may sound. The man she was determined to avenge.

_"Stay with me"_

With a final heave, Eve wrenched herself from the officer. She made a dive for the axe. The glass box read EMERGENCY, and right now, _this was_ an emergency. She effectively slipped pass the armed men and thru the door.

Zod had his back facing the door and Clark hoped all his attention remained on him, that he wouldn't take notice to the door creaking opening. Clark remained silent and took the blow to the face he was given.

Zod's sadist smile suddenly wiped clean from his face. He had seen Clark's eyes dart to the hidden humans.

Clark's gut turned to ice and he cursed himself.

_"Until I fall asleep,"_

Eve held the axe above her head; she didn't consider the cry coming from her mouth as she rushed to the armored alien. She was not thinking clearly—she was not thinking at all, Clark knew. He could not move; he could only watch helplessly from the ground, his eyes wide, pleading, hoping she'd turn back.

His effort was in vain.

Zod had already turned on her before she could get too close. His arm thrusted to her in inhuman speed and Eve stopped for several moments as if pause button was just pressed. Then the axe finally slipped from her grasp, its loud clanging against the floor the only sound in the now quiet room.

Clark couldn't see below her shoulders or her entire body behind Zod's back for that matter, but still, as Zod yanked his arm back and sheathed his sword back, Clark knew. Zod stepped back to watch her body sway and the tears that had gathered in her eyes fall.

Her body froze and she coughed, blood already bubbling up her mouth and splattering across Zod's cheek.

_"Stay with me!"_

Clark screamed.

* * *

**What you think?**


	10. Chapter 9

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing **]**

* * *

**Kiss It Better**

* * *

Eve swayed on her feet. Her eyes raised to stare at this man—this..._thing_ in front of her who she could only guess to be Zod. She'd never seen him before, at least up close, and wishes she never had.

An acid feeling churned in her stomach and bubbled up her throat into a cough. She saw red speckle the side of Zod's face and began feeling a little nauseous.

_'So __**that's**__ why my stomach hurts so much...'_ Oddly enough, the realization didn't cause panic.

Eve's body jerked feeling the long sword yank from inside her. Blood gushed out from her stomach onto the floor, already creating a dark puddle.

_Kiss it all better,_  
_I'm not ready to go._

The scream Clark gave was horrifying. His body straining on the floor as he watched her stabbed, screaming, watching his beloved murdered in front of him, caused unearthly chills to run up the spines of those remaining behind the mirror. To those who hadn't ran, cringed.

To Clark, it was too much to bare. Not again. Not twice.

_'Not her!'_

All the while, Zod stared coldly down in her dark gray eyes.

Another animalistic growl came from somewhere deep in his chest, and against better judgment, Clark struggled to stand. His muscles protested and his spine screamed as he pushed up on his arms into a mishap push-up position.

Zod turning from the small, dark skinned woman, looking down at the broken man. He sneered.

Eve collapsed to a heap on the cold floor.

_He noticed she had been standing tall one moment, and in the next she suddenly slumped to the ground._

Clark watched in horror.

Zod blinked, astounded; the injury to Clark's spine should have rendered him paralyzed.

Clark strained, blood inking out the sides of his lips and staining the inside of his mouth. He somehow, painfully, rose one leg to hold under his beaten body. His hair was matted from a wound somewhere underneath his hair; clothes were dirty, burnt and ripped; the structures of his back and chest showed noticeable dents and bends where bones where broken and bent inward.

He gave an incoherent call that could only be the name of the woman at Zod's feet. The look of rage, of hurt, terror and plea in Clark's remaining eye mirrored that of Eve's.

Kryptonians go thru a mating cycle every few years, beginning at the age of maturity. It is when the urge to mate has built up and becomes overwhelming to the point where the said Kryptonian, male or female, feels the strongest—senses are the most heightened and dominance becomes priority to where most to all other needs are improbable. This is when 30%-72% of Kryptonians, depending on the year/sun cycle, usually find their life-long love.

Although the instances when the urge is resisted; it doesn't matter when it happens. When a Kryptonian finds a mate, whether during the cycle or not, the two are not only joined 'til death and can share more than emotions and similar interests, but the two join almost psychologically. There had been some instances when the two could mirror each other perfectly, when emotions and expressions began blurring together to symmetrically. There was no knowledge of this sort of phenomenon occurring outside the Kryptonian species, let alone with a Kryptonian and completely different species, until now.

It was not expected for the other species to be able to feel such strong sparks when their skins caressed or to feel the happiness of a combined accomplishment so strongly. It was not expected for the other species to feel the pain, the hurt and exhaustion of their Kryptonian mate.

But Eve did.

She could feel her blood pumping from her stomach and knew how terrified Clark felt. The tears that weld up in Clark's eye when his leg finally collapsed under him, it bending at an odd angle, fell from Eve's.

He couldn't move his feet; he couldn't feel his legs. But the pain that shot up and down his back blazed hotter than fire, and he couldn't suppress the sob that escaped him watching Eve lie helplessly.

Eve squeezed her eyes shut and held her stomach in pain. He watched as her smaller body wracked in violent coughs that created a thin stream of red onto the broken, white floor from her lips. Those lips had once been soft, plump and flawless, sometimes bruised and swollen. They had never been pained and stained with blood before.

Clark looked up at Zod, his expression borderlining pleading, watching the general stride slowly to him.

Zod's expression was as arrogant and blank as Clark remembered.

Clark gasped—surprised tasting blood rise up his throat and how speech became difficult. He opened his mouth—probably to curse Zod, probably to plead—a hard, bone-breaking kick to the jaw stopped him.

How dare this...loathsome, lowlife _boy_... Who did he think he was? Did he think he was _better_ than him, flying around in his inherited suit like a trophy or some toy, thinking he was special. ...Having the audacity calling himself _Super_man. Kal's parents were nothing but common scientists!, Zod spat mentally. He is as good as a peasant, even _if_ his mother had been granted to stand in the council for a few years until her death!

Zod gave a glare just on the edge of granting heat vision. He watched as his kick rolled Clark over several feet to where he was almost back in the center of the room.

Kal was not going to get the better of him, he _was not_ better than him. And Zod was certainly not leaving without the codex. Not this time...

The long table and small chairs that had been there were now reduced to splintered scrap strewn across the room. Holes and cracks in the ceiling from the fight and heat vision blast allowed sunlight in various corners and areas, along giving the room unwanted shadows. Dust filled the air to where every breath for Eve was difficult and she coughed again.

Clark looked up at her. Her tears that fell were no longer from pain, but fear. Fear, confusion and isolation. But not loneliness.

_It's not your fault, love_  
_You didn't know,_  
_You didn't know._

Officer Hunt stood rigid at the glass. The cameras and monitors that had recorded the couple's final moments and Superman's confession—that had recorded everything—had no doubly been crushed by the falling rubble from the fight. Though, none of that mattered right now as Zod stood staring directly at them all in the eye.

Hunt took in a sharp breath seeing the broken, bleeding hero sprawled on the floor. His face was turned away from Hunt and for some reason he was glad. He had seen Clark's—Superman's—glasses shatter and fly across the room from the heat-vision-blast and was now 100% certain. A single tear trailed the curve of Hunt's cheek and disappeared behind his bushy white mustache.

The police woman tugged Hunt by the arm, urging him with her as she followed the rest to flee from the crumbling building. Hunt saw Zod sneer, and he followed her.

Clark watched Eve mouth his name—it wasn't "Clark."

He felt is heart skip as it began slowing down.

The streams of sunlight that strayed thru the cracks illuminated the room, giving it a golden glow. Clark looked around, the room had suddenly taken on an almost dreamy feel and air.

Eve lay on her side, a hand still on her stomach as a pool of red gathered underneath her. Despite, she was smiling. It did not reach her eyes, though.

Clark squeezed his eyes closed—and panicked when he only felt one close completely—feeling pain all over his body. He wouldn't, _refused_ to let himself cry.

He curled into himself a little, his body wracked in silent sobs. He had failed. He had failed his father, Jor-El, and mother, Lara Lor-Van. He failed his parents, Martha and Jonathan. He failed Perry, Jimmy and Pete. He failed Bruce, Diana, Hal and the others. He had failed his family and the friends close enough to be family.

He had failed Lois.

He had slipped up; he messed up and fucked pathetically. He had failed the people of Earth; he had one mission and he screwed it up.

...But he'd save the people of Krypton, right...?

He failed Eve...

Failure.

The sobs strained to become more violent.

Eve whispered, her voice no longer strong enough to rise louder. She called for Clark to look at her, begging, pleading. She glanced up, relieved that Zod's back faced them, and with her final bout of energy stretched to him.

It took him a few moments, but when Clark managed to turn himself to look at her, there was no mistaking the tears in his eye.

He was afraid.

Her smile wavered as another bout of pain shot burned from her abdomen up her throat. She swallowed down the blood that rose again and whispered for him once more.

He saw the hand she was slowly reaching to him had the bracelet still around her wrist.

_Stay with me until I fall asleep_  
_(Kiss it all better~)_

Even though Clark knew the bracelet made her body durable, bones thicker and skin stronger, she was still human. There was no way she was invulnerable to the poison that lined Zod's sword. She was still weaker than he was...And the thought scared Clark.

He was shocked she hadn't gotten rid of the bracelet.

_Stay with me-e~_

Zod's eyed dilated watching the last of the humans run from behind the glass. They were heading for an emergency exit. A helicopter was heading their way, probably to pick them up.

More aircrafts were heading for the Metropolis jailhouse, he could hear. Aircrafts like last time.

_'Humans are so irritating,'_ He thought.

Zod turned to look down at his finally, fallen enemy. He couldn't suppress the smug, proud feeling for himself that threatened to show on his face. The woman was stretched on the floor, Zod saw, her hand outstretching, painfully inching across the floor.

He didn't like see that Clark was starting to do the same in her direction, and calmly walked over and drove his heavy metal heel down into the back of Clark's hand.

Eve gasped, hearing bones snap. She didn't know how Clark could only grit his teeth instead of screaming out loudly.

Clark laid his head down, feeling his eyes burn.

Zod watched in wicked satisfaction at Eve's calling, pleading for him to look up. He turned back to where the humans were fleeing.

_'Kal-El is finished.'_

_Stay with me until i fall asleep..._  
_Stay with me_

Eve lay on her stomach, using every ounce of her remaining energy to reach him. She had to, she_ must_, before she...

Clark turned on his side, refusing to give up and reached for her again. He didn't care about the fact that his hand was almost completely shattered; he breathed furiously, straining to pull his body across the floor. His entire body burned, from his skull down his spine; he was now sure he was paralyzed from the waist down as the pain didn't reach there.

They were inches away. Their hands were centimeters apart.

Clark reached his hand closer towards her.

_(Kiss it all better~)_

_Eve smiled at his expression. He dusted himself off, frowning hearing her laugh lightly. It was already freezing outside and he could have gone without having ice sprayed on him. Eve wanted to stop by the outdoor iceskating ring after visiting the hospital, and one of the skiers had made an abrupt turn, showering Clark with snow. Though it was snowing outside, Clark needed nothing more than a good sweater. Eve laughed, not knowing this. "C'mon...let's get you home," she hugged herself, her teeth chattering loudly._

_She couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. There was no way...She would never have thought that Clark could beat her. But surely, the score was nowhere near hers on both DDR __**and**__ Just Dance. ...Boy was she wrong. His smug smile just irked her more._

Clark Kent had always seemed like the quiet guy who kept to himself at the office. He didn't talk to many unless necessary, and when he did, it was very little. He was well known like Lois and was one of Perry White's favorite reporters, but unlike Lois, he didn't force himself onto others, at least not as abrasive as she did, and didn't make sure the entire country knew of his name and title. He just did what was needed to be done and then went about his business.

He was the one you always kept an eye out for. For some, as a competition; to others, to was because of his famed mild clumsiness. To Eve, because he had always stood out to her.

At first, she didn't like him very much for some reason, but then couldn't understand why he chose to be with someone who was so bossy and self-centered as Lois, and she soon began feeling a bit sympathetic. Then they were introduced and quiet jealousy began to brew.

And then the night in the back of the taxi...

Clark knew now that all he had felt was lust back then. He would come to work and his eyes would automatically, somehow, find Miss Lancaster—as he called her then. His selfish acts caused by the kryptonite had made him act on his thoughts. He didn't know if Eve had felt the same and hadn't quite cared then.

_Clark moaned. He heard her heartbeat skip; his grip on the mattress tightened. He ignored the sound of fabric shredding._

He felt shameful of his actions.

It wasn't long until he began feeling something other than,_ more _than lust for the short, darker woman. Eve was the only one who successfully picked up that he was spiraling into depression after Lois' death and had been the only one to successfully pull him out.

He didn't like that he had ended up using her for so long. He hated himself that it took a situation as this for him to finally apologize, to finally say "I love you."

_Eve shrinked away in the small space the elevator allowed. Clark remained bent slightly for several moments before straightening tall. His hand retreated from cupping her face to hide in his pocket. "I-I can't," Eve placed a hand on her lips. He had been about to kiss her. "This is wrong. Sh-she just died, Clark, and I feel that this—I—- we—are disrespecting her." Clark raised an eyebrow a bit. "I've always told to move on after it's been more than one year. And it's been almost half a year already, Eve," he countered. Eve shook her head. She left quickly, leaving him standing in the elevator and breathed a sigh of thanks that the doors opened then._

She had always been true and he had always lied. When he'd come back from witnessing children burn, from him not have been able to save every person, she was there for him—sometimes waiting, losing sleep at late hours trying to calm his shakes and using words she hoped would lighten the moment.

Through all the lies, the times he'd blow her off ten minutes 'til, when he'd abruptly get up and leave in the middle of the night, Clark was too afraid to tell her he was Superman. So he continued to lie; Eve continued to believe him. And he grew to feeling worse and worse with every moment of opportunity passed.

_"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, / And sorry I could not travel both / And be one traveler, long I stood / And looked down one as far as I could..." The book of poems obscured her face. __Clark looked up__ hearing her reading aloud, and he put the rubik's cube he played with on his stomach. It was nearing Christmas time and it showed outside. Clark lay quietly, his head in Eve's lap, and listened as she read the next line and more. "...And having perhaps the better claim, / Because it was grassy and wanted wear; / Though as for that the passing there / Had worn them really about the same,..." She adjusted her hips on the sofa. Clark felt her fingers tangle in his curls. "...Yet knowing how way leads on to way, / I doubted if I should ever come back." For some reason, that hit him. The more he listened the more the words reminded him of them—they were both completely different besides their backgrounds, though she didn't know, and their paths had happened to cross. "I shall be telling this with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: / Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference," Eve turned the page to the next poem. Clark took her hand from his hair and played with her smaller fingers. "What's the name of that one," he asked when she finished. This was the sixth poem she's read aloud. "The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost. ...Why?" He put her fingers down. "No reason," he lied, before getting up to make more hot chocolate._

They were two souls who met by fate and chance, who were walking down two very different paths that just happened to cross. Who, by destiny, fell in love and by unfortunate events lay bleeding on the ground.

_Stay with me until I fall asleep..._  
_Stay with me._

Rubble caved in the next room. Debris fell from the ceiling as the building groaned. The ground rumbled. Zod's World Engines landing shook the ground in more than seven mile radius.

Hunt and those who had fled the jail now piled in a helicopter outside. That did not stop Zod—with the gifts of heat vision and ability to fly thanks to Earth's atmosphere, he could rid them in five seconds flat.

There needn't be their need to run. They were done anyhow; Earth was finished. The World Engines were in position and it is only a matter of time until life as they knew it—this world—would be gone.

_Stay with me until I fall asleep,_

Light caramel twined with fair tan.

Eve breathed a sigh.

The familiarity calmed her a bit feeling her hand with his.

The little light that streamed in thru cracks gave the white room a golden hue. The dust in the air looked different and the room reminded Clark of something from a fairytale or dream.

The building grew louder as it fell apart. A chunk of cement fell somewhere nearby.

She looked so beautiful, he thought, with the golden light of sunset in the room lining her, and the way her hair strewned haphazardly. Her bright eyes crinkled in a smile.

He wished none of this ever happened. She was his everything and never did he want anything as this to happen to her. He thought he could fix it. He had thought he could fix himself when he pulled the kryptonite bullet from in his side. He had thought he could fix it like whenever he had on the suit. He had thought he could stop Zod, but foolishly took his eyes away at the wrong time. He thought he could be the one to help her. He thought...he thought...

He didn't think anymore.

Clark twined their fingers together. He was losing his hearing.

_I love you._

He didn't try to hide the lone tear that fell. There was no reason for him to hide any longer.

Clark reached and cupped her hand with both of his, his easily overtaking hers.

No words were needed. Unspoken knowing of their fates rendered them silent, along with the pain.

Clark didn't hear Eve's second heartbeat, it too, faint and slowly coming to a halt.

She squeezed his hand.

It is said some feel a final feeling of grief, denial and anger during final moments. Most times, feeling isolated and confused.

Eve smiled—though, it was pained.

_My love._

_Stay with me._

Warmth and tranquility was all that was felt between the two.

Her lips quivered, and Clark barely caught the words they formed.

She wouldn't say that she was losing her sight rapidly, the alien poison quickly running its coarse thru her body. She instinctly held her stomach.

A large slab of wall fell away.

Eve closed her eyes, her smile serene.

Clark watched her breathing slow, taking in, studying, and remembering as much of her as he finally could.

Both refused for their hands to let go.

His eyes closed minutes after hers.


	11. Epilogue

******I got the idea for this chapter after watching an** [Official Fanmade Alternative Story Music Video] ******of Carrie Underwood's song "Black Cadillac", and the song "Life Is Beautiful" by Sixx: A.M. . Maybe give them a listen?**

**[ Disclaimer:** Superman: Man of Steel belongs to the Warner Bros. and whoever came up with DC Comics. The song "Kiss It Better" is owned by the duo He Is We. I own nothing but Eve **]**

* * *

**Epilogue  
**

* * *

"We gather here today on this red evening to morn one of Earth's mightiest heroes," the preacher briefly looked over the hundreds of heavy faces. He spoke into the microphone, his voice grave. He felt almost forced to speak these words—they were hard for even him to grasp—his words and prayers came out hard and rasp.

Zod stood in the safety of his ship, watching from the giant monitor in the control room.

An older woman in the crowd dabbed her eyes but the tears kept falling. She had traveled from a farm out of state to attend. Her graying hair protected from the sun by a straw hat. It was the hat he'd worn so many times since he was young...

A large older man wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the young man at his side. The young redhead wiped his eyes briefly, but the tears kept falling for his best friend.

Zod tapped his foot impatiently. He wished these humans would hurry the process. As much as it bothered him, he understood and granted them the request to hold this last of traditions.

"There will be no way we could thank him enough for all that he's done," the preacher looked down along with the mayor of the city near his side. _'There's no way we could now, anyways,'_ he thought bitterly to himself.

A child hugged its guardian, in the crowd, crying lightly, unsure completely of the grave situation.

Another mother morned for her lost child, hugging the arm of her younger daughter. The young woman, the younger daughter, was not far past the age of 24; her wavy/curly hair was shorter than her sister's, held up in an afro. She stared straight, tears threatening the corners of her eyes.

A large silver casket lied at the end of the large outside stage for all to see. On the front was the engraved picture of a large shield with the Kryptonian symbol for Hope inside it. One one of the smaller dark caskets nearby had an identical symbol, only smaller.

Zod glanced at the controls to the World Engines. 90 more minutes, that's all they would be given left.

Three black Cadillacs drove down the dirt road. It was hidden by forest to how if one was not looking attentively, the road could be easily missed. It didn't matter—the crowd of three hundred-and-growing followed the vehicles down the path, some by foot, some on wheels of some sort.

It was a black parade in more ways than one.

"That shield-crest had become the symbol to us all as it was back on his home planet: it stood for hope. He had become the symbol for hope not only here in this city, but as we all know, the entire globe."

Officer Hunt, General Swanwick and other heads of authority had approached Zod days earlier to plead for more time at the least, which approaching him was in itself not an easy task. The alien was a "shoot first, don't question later" type. It almost turned ugly when Hunt mentioned the Kryptons old traditions that many had surely died still upholding when the planet was killed and what Zod was no doubtly trying to keep. It was a difficult task at first, but Zod had to hold—and by ugly, Hunt had almost been incinigrated on the spot. Though, eventually, Zod had been persuaded to allow the people of Earth to perform this final act.

"Eight sunrises" is all mankind was given left.

Worldwide, every person was notified who ever had a television, internet, radio or some way of communication.

"To some, he resided under the name Clark Kent, who worked at the local newspaper The Daily Planet alongside his late lover, Miss Lois Lane, and later, his then-future fiancé, the late Miss Eve Lancaster."

This information was discovered by investigators who had looked thru all three's apartments while they were in jail. It didn't take too long to put the pieces together for the authorities—Lois' red hairs on the carpet, notes scribbled on random sheets of paper, DNA samples throughout the apartments and the mattresses of Eve's and Clark's, his Superman suit tucked away in a compartment under a floorboard, and a small 3-carat woman's ring in a small black velvet box hidden in Clark's drawer all seemed to tell stories in themselves. Of Lois' dreams of death she had before her murder, Clark's constant inner turmoil of his double life, and so forth. The authorities were astounded, to say the least, that someone as Superman—a situation as this—had hid under their noses for so long. One of the women had marveled at the diamond on Eve's had-been future engagement ring.

But there was no reason to hide anything now; might as well put all the details out in the open now. Might as well let them all know. The world hadn't taken it smoothly finding that Superman had been basically one of them.

The preacher continued: "to the majority, he was known as Superman, Earth's friendly alien superhero and protector. It didn't matter what he was called or what he wore. He continued to stand for kindness and helped those in need. He," the preacher paused, choking up. "...He had been a better person than we could ever have been."

The headlights shown bright in the setting sun. This would be the first time the two women inside the smaller Cadillacs would meet. Yes, they've interacted back in the office, but it was under uncomfortable instances; this would be the first time they would, peacefully.

Just like how the cause of man's death in the alley was found, the foreinsics had found all the little secrets that were kept. It was like the second half or the ending to a bittersweet love story.

The autopsy had been the worst part, and not because it had taken the doctors several tries to find a material tat would cut Clark's skin. Ana, the woman who was in charge of the autopsy, who had been doing it alone in the beginning leaving it to the others, had ran from the room, holding her mouth to keep from puking on the floor. She had performed on Lois Lane, and when she had gotten the other two, she repeated in her mind that it was no different. She looked passed Lois' slightly molded, bloody corpse and Clark's dented body, broken jaw and nose, and missing eyeball. However, she was wrong when she opened up Eve Lancaster.

Zod had done more than kill a worldwide-known legend and prepare for mass genocide. Back in the jail, he had killed three lives, not two.

Ana had held her stomach as she emptied its contents into the trashcan. The image of the bloody, scrambled fetus spilling out from inside of Eve was still vey clear in her memory. She doubted neither the father nor mother had known of the child's existence, given she hadn't looked remotely pregnant.

They did not, in fact.

The child had already formed bright blue eyes and began the ears.

The crowd circled around the three large holes in the ground, only giving room for the crane that would lower each down in their respective graves.

A man nearest the grave stood, his hands crossed in the front of him. He wore an expensive suit that complemented his black hair and blue eyes. His brows knitted together as he continued to bite his lip to keep from crying. The woman next to him wore a Greek tunic, she was adorned with ancient-style tiara, bracelets and jewelry. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he soon had his hands around her, silent tears cascading down his face for their friend and commrad.

A retired military general crossed his arms over his chest, his head bowed for his fallen baby girl.

There was not a dry eye in the crowd, those who watched live via internet or listened over some way of communication.

This day, everyone was the same. Whether you were the old man still working at a newspaper since youth or the gifted, super-speedy young man at the side. Whether one was a billionaire or originated from under the sea, everyone was connected by hope.

Somewhere in the giant alien spaceship, a Kryptonian woman, looking to be around the age of 26, held her hands over eyes. She slid down the wall, crumpling to the floor, her blonde hair hiding her face as she bawled silently for the loss of her little-big cousin and from Zod brainwashing her long enough into making her agree to join him.

Everyone was going to die.

The crane had lowered Lois to rest and was now reaching for Eve. She will be put to rest alongside her child, also in its own casket inside with her.

"Lord, bless these innocent souls. Let them be reunited with loved ones in your kingdom." It was obvious the preacher's words was not only directed to those in the caskets. His words of prayer, of thankfulness, forgiveness, and then access into Haven fell upon muddled ears.

The large silver casket was lowered into the ground, in a grave between the two.

As the people passed, each tossed in a handful of dirt into each hole, some taking more than one.

The ships's doors hissed as they opened. Faora Hu-Ul stalked into the room, stopping to stand beside Zod. He glanced her way, satisfied that she had healed from her injuries from the encounter with Kal and his troupe of humans.

Zod turned to the controllers to the World Engines. His cold eyes lingered on the button that would start them. He presses it.

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**FIN**

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**Dedicated to all the amazing reviewers! Really, I could not have made it without you. I can't thank you enough for sticking with me and putting up with my crazy updates. You all do not know how much this means to me helping me finish my first story successfully, albeit a short short one. But still, thank you all, SO SO ZO MUCH :D**

**Oh, before I forget, for those who couldn't guess the people mentioned at the funeral, in order mentioned:  
-Martha Kent with the hat;  
-Perry White is who hugs Jimmy Olsen (the redhead) around the shoulders;  
-a random child with his/her parent/guardian;  
-Eve's younger sister is who is the 24-ish with their mother (the older woman);  
-Bruce Wayne is the man in the expensive suit and Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) is the woman in the Greek-style tunic-dress;  
-the retired military general is Lois' father;  
-the blonde Kryptonian woman is Kara Zor-El a.k.a. Supergirl. ****So yeah...pretty much everyone.**

***f.y.i., the Faora and Zod pairing is actually ****canon, for those who didn't know ('cause I didn't). They are actually a couple in some versions, and there is mentions of them having a kid later too.**

******Don't forget to fill that review box with any likes, comments, concerns, questions, quirks, quims, and other words that start with Q**

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** Hate me yet? LOL Well This is a tragedy for a reason, right**

** Okay, so instead, I have two more ideas for Supes fics and I'm probably (most likely) going to be writing 2 more fics, so that would be 3 Supes stories total. The first couple chaps for at least one of them should be out sometime soon. 2 are probably going to be another two short stories, the other 1 I'm planning on it not to be so much. They will not all be under Movie→Superman, one is going to be under Justice League in the TV Show category. ****Why? Because one of the ****episodes sparked it and I'm just crazy like that ;P**

**This is when checking the author alert ****and typing in that review box down there ****comes in handy :)**


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